B 

¥ 


THE 

FINANCIER 


A   NOVEL 


BY 
THEODORE    DREISER 

AUTHOR  OF 
"JENNIE  GEKHARDT"  "SISTER  CARRIE" 


HARPER  &  BROTHERS  PUBLISHERS 
NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 
M  -  C  -  M  -  X  -  I  -  I 


COPYRIGHT.    1,912.    BY    HARPER   &    BROTHERS 

PRINTED   IN   THE    UNITED   STATES   OF   AMERICA 

PUBLISHED    OCTOBER.    1912 


K-M 


MA 


THE    FINANCIER 


810848 


THE    FINANCIER 


CHAPTER  I 

"  I  came  into  the  world  feet  first   and  was  born  with  teeth. 
The  nurse  did  prophesy  that  I   should  snarl  and  bite." 

— RICHARD  III. 

THE  Philadelphia  into  which  Frank  Algernon  Cowper- 
wood  was  born  was  at  his  very  birth  already  a  city  of 
two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  and  more.  It  was  set 
with  handsome  parks,  notable  buildings,  and  crowded 
with  historic  memories.  Many  of  the  things  that  we  and 
he  knew  later  were  not  then  in  existence — the  telegraph, 
telephone,  express  company,  ocean  steamer,  or  city  de 
livery  of  mails.  There  were  no  postage-stamps  or  regis 
tered  letters.  The  street-car  had  not  arrived,  and  in  its 
place  were  hosts  of  omnibuses,  and  for  longer  travel, 
the  slowly  developing  railroad  system  still  largely  con 
nected  with  canals.  Young  Cowperwood's  father  was  a 
bank  clerk  at  his  birth,  and  ten  years  later,  when  young 
Cowperwood  was  turning  a  very  sensible,  vigorous  eye 
on  the  world,  his  father  was  still  a  clerk,  although  he  was 
a  much  more  trusted  and  desired  one,  and  was  so  near 
a  tellership  that  there  was  not  the  least  doubt  in  the  world 
that  he  would  get  it.  The  next  year,  because  the  presi 
dent  died  and  the  vice-president  became  president,  the 
cashier  was  made  vice-president,  and  Mr.  Henry  Worth- 
ington  Cowperwood  was  moved  into  the  place  vacated  by 
the  promoted  teller.  He  was  a  happy  man.  It  meant 

i 


THE    FINANCIER 

the  munificent  sum  of  thirty-five  hundred  dollars  a  year, 
and  he  decided,  as  he  told  his  wife  joyously  the  night  he 
heard  it,  that  he,  or  they,  rather,  would  now  move  from 
Number  21  Button  wood  Street  to  Number  124  New 
Market,  where  there  was  a  nice  brick  house  of  three  stories 
in  height,  as  opposed  to  the  one  of  two  stories  which  they 
now  occupied.  .Button wood  Street,  at  the  point  which 
they  were  now  located,  was  rapidly  being  surrounded  by 
business  conditions  which  were  unbearable;  and  New 
Market  at  the  point  he  had  picked  on  was  removed,  at 
least  a  score  of  blocks,  from  the  region  which  was  once 
so  nice  but  was  now  becoming  so  sorrowfully  defiled. 
There  was  the  probability  that  some  day  they  would  come 
into  something  even  much  better  than  this,  but  for  the 
present  this  was  sufficient.  He  was  exceedingly  grateful. 
Mr.  Henry  Worthington  Cowperwood  was  at  this 
time  a  significant  figure — tall,  lean,  inquisitorial,  clerkly, 
the  pink  of  perfection  in  the  niceties  of  commercial  con 
duct,  absolutely  practical  —  a  man  who  believed  only 
what  he  saw,  was  not  at  all  disturbed  about  those  silly 
fancies  which  might  trouble  the  less  rational  brains  of 
this  world,  and  content  to  be  what  he  was — a  banker, 
or  prospective  one.  He  looked  upon  life  as  a  business 
situation  or  deal,  with  everybody  born  as  more  or  less 
capable  machines  to  take  a  part  in  it.  It  was  surprising 
to  him  to  see  how  many  incapable  or  unsatisfactory 
machines  there  were;  but,  thank  heaven,  now  that  he 
was  getting  along  fairly  well,  this  was  no  affair  of  his. 
At  first,  when  he  was  much  younger — he  was  now  thirty- 
six — life  had  seemed  just  a  little  unsatisfactorily  organized. 
But  now — well  now  it  didn't  look  so  bad.  He  had  nice, 
smooth,  closely  cropped  side-whiskers  coming  to  almost 
the  lower  lobe  of  his  ears,  and  his  upper  lip  was  smooth 
and  curiously  long.  He  had  a  straight  nose  of  a  some 
what  longish  length  and  a  chin  that  tended  to  be  pointed. 
His  manner  might  have  been  called  severe,  though  really 
it  was  more  of  a  cultivated  manner  than  anything  else. 


THE    FINANCIER 

His  eyebrows  were  bushy,  emphasizing  vague  grayish- 
green  eyes,  and  his  hair  was  short  and  smooth  and  nicely 
parted.  He  wore  a  frock-coat  always — it  was  quite  the 
financial  thing  in  these  days — and  a  high  hat.  And  he 
kept  his  hands  and  nails  immaculately  clean.  Being 
ambitious  to  get  somewhere  socially  and  financially  with 
out  falling,  he  was  very  careful  of  whom  or  with  whom 
he  talked;  and  he  was  as  much  afraid  of  expressing  a 
rabid  or  unpopular  political  or  social  opinion  as  he  was  of 
being  seen  with  an  evil  character,  though  he  had  no 
opinion  of  great  political  significance  to  express.  He  was 
neither  anti  nor  pro  slavery,  though  the  air  was  stormy 
with  abolition  sentiment  and  its  opposition.  He  be 
lieved  sincerely  that  vast  fortunes  were  to  be  made  out 
of  railroads  if  one  only  had  the  capital  and  that  curious 
thing,  a  magnetic  personality — the  ability  to  win  the 
confidence  of  others.  He  was  sure  that  Andrew  Jackson 
was  all  wrong  in  his  opposition  to  Nicholas  Biddle  and 
the  United  States  Bank,  one  of  the  great  issues  of  the 
day;  and  he  was  worried,  as  he  might  well  be,  by  the  per 
fect  storm  of  wildcat  money  which  was  floating  about 
and  which  was  constantly  coming  to  his  bank — discounted, 
of  course — and  handed  out  again  to  anxious  borrowers 
at  a  profit,  you  may  be  sure.  His  bank  was  the  Third 
National  of  Philadelphia,  located  in  that  center  of  all 
Philadelphia,  and  indeed  almost,  at  that  time,  of  all 
national  finance,  Third  Street;  and  its  owners  did  a 
brokerage  business  on  the  side.  As  a  broker's  clerk, 
Mr.  Cowperwood  had  to  know  all  sorts  of  banks  here  and 
elsewhere,  for  immense  quantities  of  uncurrent  bank 
notes  were  to  be  handled,  distributed,  and  mailed  each 
day.  There  was  a  perfect  plague  of  State  banks,  great 
and  little,  in  those  days,  issuing  notes  practically  without 
regulation  upon  insecure  and  unknown  assets  and  failing 
and  suspending  with  unheard-of  rapidity;  and  these  Mr. 
Cowperwood  had  to  know  about.  He  was  convinced 
after  a  short  experience  that  life  was  a  ticklish  business, 

3 


THE     FINANCIER 

and  he  had  become  the  soul  of  caution.  Unfortunately 
for  him,  he  lacked  in  a  great  measure  the  two  things  that 
are  necessary  for  distinction  in  any  field-magnetism  and 
vision.  He  was  not  destined  to  be  a  great  financier, 
though  he  was  marked  out  to  be  a  moderately  successful 
one. 

Mr.  Cowperwood's  home  was  in  Buttonwood  Street 
for  the  time  being,  and  a  pleasant  little  home  it  was,  to 
be  sure.  Mrs.  Cowperwood  was  of  a  Christian,  saving 
disposition — Episcopalians,  they  were.  She  was  a  small 
woman,  very  attractive  in  her  day,  with  light-brown  hair 
and  clear  brown  eyes.  Later  in  life  she  became  rather  prim 
and  matter-of-fact,  and  when  Frank  Cowperwood  was  ten 
she  was  the  watchful  mother  of  three  boys  and  one  girl. 
The  former,  captained  by  the  eldest,  Frank,  were  a  source 
of  considerable  annoyance  to  her,  for  they  were  forever 
making  expeditions  to  different  parts  of  the  city,  getting 
in  with  bad  boys  probably,  and  seeing  and  hearing  things 
they  should  neither  see  nor  hear.  Mr.  Henry  Cowper 
wood,  with  his  future  opportunities  shining  clear  before 
him,  hit  upon  the  private  school  and  tutor  method  as  a 
happy  solution,  and  so  these  boys  for  some  years  after 
ward  were  carefully  watched.  Nevertheless,  boys  would 
be  boys,  and  these  were  no  exceptions. 

During  all  these  years  that  Frank  was  growing  up  he 
was  a  natural-born  leader.  At  the  day  school,  and  later 
at  the  Central  High  School,  where  he  was  finally  educated, 
he  was  looked  upon  as  one  whose  common  sense  could 
unquestionably  be  trusted  in  all  cases,  and  he  never 
disappointed  this  belief.  He  was  a  sturdy  youth,  coura 
geous  and  defiant.  After  he  was  ten  years  old  his  mother 
learned  to  know  that  Joseph  and  Edward,  the  two  younger 
brothers,  were  perfectly  safe  in  his  care,  and  if  they  asked 
to  go  anywhere  it  was  customary  for  her  to  ask  if  Frank 
were  going.  If  so,  well  and  good.  If  not,  not.  If  they 
wanted  to  do  anything  when  he  was  with  them  and  he 
objected,  he  was  most  emphatic  in  a  quiet  way. 


THE    FINANCIER 

"  Can't  we  go  down  to  the  old  market  and  jump  on  the 
cars?"  Joseph  used  to  ask.  They  were  a  great  sight  in 
those  days — the  railroad  yards.  The  tracks  came  into 
Market  Street,  and  many  of  the  cars  being  locally  switched 
about  were  hauled  by  horses.  The  boys  were  fond  of 
riding,  stealing  as  much  as  they  could  in  this  way;  and 
Joseph  and  Edward  were  no  exceptions. 

"Why  not?"  Edward  might  ask. 

"Because  it  isn't  good  for  you,  that's  why.  You  keep 
off  those  things." 

"Aw,  the  Collinses  go  down  there." 

"Well,  we're  not  the  Collinses.  Don't  you  ever  go 
down  there  alone." 

Having  the  parental  confidence  and  backing  as  well  as 
his  own  natural  force,  Frank's  word  was  law;  and  yet  he 
was  a  liberal  interpreter  of  the  law.  He  liked  to  play 
"one  old  cat,"  the  new  baseball  game  coming  into  vogue 
at  that  time,  and  he  was  fond  of  football  as  played  by  his 
Central  High  School  team.  He  liked  visiting  the  museums 
in  Chestnut  Street — there  were  several — a  menagerie,  a 
museum  of  anatomy,  and  another  of  curious  fish  and 
birds ;  and  he  liked  the  theater,  and  would  gladly  take  his 
brothers  to  a  minstrel  show  or  a  pirate  melodrama,  pay 
ing  the  expense  himself  when  he  had  the  money.  From 
the  very  first  he  was  a  good  leader,  but  also  a  splendid 
second  to  those  older  than  himself  whom  he  sincerely 
admired.  There  was  a  certain  "Red"  Gilligan,  a  tall, 
shambling,  and  yet  rather  brilliant  and  pyrotechnic  rowdy, 
who  took  a  great  fancy  to  young  Cowperwood  for  a  time. 
He  used  to  see  him  at  first,  when  he  was  a  ten-year-old 
boy,  passing  the  corner  of  Arch  and  Second,  where 
Gilligan  with  the  members  of  what  was  known  as  the 
"River  gang"  used  to  "hang  out."  Gilligan  had  another 
young  protege,  "Spat"  McGlathery,  who  received  a  ter 
rible  drubbing  one  afternoon  from  young  Cowperwood 
a  year  or  two  later  for  spitting  on  his  shoes.  It  came 
about  in  this  way.  He  was  passing  innocently  by,  carry- 

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THE    FINANCIER 

ing  his  books,  when  the  former,  wishing  to  evince  his  con 
tempt  for  all  the  refinements  of  this  world — particularly 
those  that  were  manifested  by  boys  of  his  own  age — spat 
sneeringly  and  contemptuously  at  the  latter's  feet  and 
landed  a  nice  spatter  of  tobacco-juice  on  his  toes.  This 
enraged  Cowperwood  greatly.  Like  a  flash,  though  natu 
rally  calm,  he  dropped  his  books  and  went  for  his  opponent. 
He  wore  a  silver  ring  on  his  right  hand  which  his  mother 
had  given  him,  and  curiously  it  flashed  into  his  mind  in  a 
lightning  calculation  to  take  it  off,  but  he  did  not.  In 
stead,  he  planted  his  right  fist  swift  and  straight  on  young 
McGlathery's  jaw,  then  his  left  in  the  same  place,  then 
his  right  on  the  latter's  mouth,  then  his  left  square  be 
tween  the  latter's  mouth  and  nose. 

It  was  a  terrific  onslaught,  quick  and  ugly,  to  which  his 
opponent  returned  with  enthusiasm,  but  he  was  no  match 
for  his  new  adversary.  The  latter  forced  him  back 
steadily,  and  as  he  retreated  Frank  followed  him.  There 
was  a  crowd  in  a  moment,  for  Spat  was  considered 
a  star  fighter  of  the  gang;  but  Cowperwood  drove  him  by 
sheer  force  and  swiftness  all  about  the  sidewalk.  He  was 
not  thinking  of  the  crowd.  He  was  thinking  how 
thoroughly  he  could  "lick"  this  bully  and  in  how  short 
a  time.  Red  Gilligan,  who  was  standing  amazedly  by, 
was  delighted.  He  did  not  know  that  this  nice-look 
ing  " mama's  boy,"  as  they  called  all  the  refined  youths 
of  the  neighborhood,  could  do  anything  of  the  sort. 
To  see  Spat  McGlathery,  whom  he  greatly  admired 
as  a  "scrapper,"  being  drubbed  in  this  way,  and  to 
realize  yet  as  he  did  that  Spat  would  scorn  assistance, 
even  though  licked,  and  that  therefore  this  was  one  of 
those  admirable  contests  which  one  could  judge  on  its 
merits,  was  inspiring.  He  followed  them  around,  pushing 
the  other  "hickeys,"  as  the  bad  boys  of  the  gang  were 
called,  aside,  and  seeing  that  what  he  called  fair  play  was 
had.  He  had  on  a  red  shirt,  a  brown  coat,  much  too 
short  for  him,  a  baggy  pair  of  trousers,  fastened  about 

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THE    FINANCI  ER 

his  waist  by  a  belt;  and  his  pugnacious  but  quizzical 
and  intelligent  face  was  surmounted  by  a  small,  close- 
fitting  cloth  cap  with  a  vizor  pulled  over  his  eyes.  He  was 
so  interested  that  he  was  closely  over  the  fighters  all  the 
time. 

"Police!"  yelled  the  neighbors  from  stores  and  win 
dows. 

"Let  'em  alone,"  he  yelled  to  his  compatriots,  fearing 
interruption.  "Hands  off!  I'll  smack  your  jaw!"  (This 
to  some  youth  interfering.)  "If  he  can  lick  him,  let  him 
lick  him." 

The  gang  stood  by. 

It  was  a  swift  and  rapid  fight  for  all  of  four  minutes, 
all  over  the  red-brick  sidewalk  and  into  the  gutter.  Young 
Spat,  recovering  from  his  surprise  and  realizing  that  he 
had  a  terrible  adversary,  clinched.  Frank  manceuvered 
the  former's  head  under  his  arm  by  sheer,  hard  force  and 
punched  him  vigorously. 

"Huh!    Huh!    Huh!"  he  grunted,  as  he  struck  him. 

Mr.  McGlathery  was  bleeding  profusely. 

"Aw!  call  him  off,"  Spat's  friends  yelled. 

"Let  him  alone,"  yelled  Gilligan.  "Spat  '11  say  when 
he's  had  enough." 

Cowperwood  forced  him  to  the  pavement,  punching 
him  and  sitting  astride  of  him.  After  a  time  he  pushed 
his  head  against  the  bricks  and  punched  some  more. 

"I  quit,"  yelled  McGlathery,  after  a  time.  He  was 
bleeding  and  almost  crying,  in  spite  of  himself,  and  he 
could  not  get  up  nor  loosen  Cowperwood's  hold. 

Young  Cowperwood  got  up.  He  began  brushing  his 
clothes  and  looking  about  for  some  friendly  face. 

"Say,  kid,"  called  Gilligan,  grabbing  his  arm,  "say, 
you're  a  wonder!  What's  your  name?" 

"Cowperwood,"  replied  Frank,  kneading  the  dirt  off 
his  coat  and  trousers  and  feeling  for  his  handkerchief. 

"Kick  the  stuffing  out  of  him,"  some  other  youth  called, 
approaching  and  chafing  to  avenge  McGlathery. 

7 


THE    FINANCIER 

"Yah  do,  and  I'll  kick  your  head  off,  you  flannel  mouth. 
Git  back!"  It  was  Red  Gilligan  talking. 

Cowperwood  realized  he  had  a  friend. 

"Where's  my  books?"  he  asked. 

"Where's  his  books?"  called  Gilligan,  authoritatively. 

An  obsequious  underling  sought  and  found  them. 

"Say,  kid,"  said  his  new  protector,  "I'm  Red  Gilligan. 
You're  all  right.  You  can  fight.  Don't  you  worry. 
They're  not  goin'  to  jump  on  you." 

Cowperwood  was  looking  apprehensively  about. 

Gilligan  walked  down  the  street  with  him  the  while  a 
part  of  the  gang  stayed  to  console  Spat  McGlathery, 
while  another  part  followed  to  witness  the  triumph  of 
the  victor.  They  could  scarcely  believe  their  senses — 
one  of  their  bravest  members  licked!  A  policeman,  at 
tracted  by  the  cries  of  shopkeepers  and  women,  shortly 
hove  into  view  and  scattered  the  crowd.  Red  Gilligan, 
drawn  by  the  charm  of  Cowperwood's  personality,  put 
his  arm  over  the  latter's  shoulder — he  was  at  least  nine 
inches  taller,  spare  and  bony — and  leered  down  joyfully 
in  his  new  discovery's  face.  "Say,  I'll  be  d — d!"  he  said. 
"  You're  all  right !  You're  fine.  Cowperwood,  eh?  Well, 
you  know  me  from  now  on.  You  can  have  anything  I 
got.  I  like  you." 

"I  didn't  want  to  fight  him,"  said  Cowperwood,  con 
servatively.  He  was  not  sure  whether  he  welcomed  the 
attentions  of  this  new  friend  or  not.  Still  he  did  not  mind 
them  so  much.  They  were  pleasant. 

"I  know  you  didn't.  Don't  you  be  afraid.  You 
didn't  do  any  more  than  you  ought  to.  He  spit  on  your 
shoes.  That's  all  right;  you  ought  to  lick  him.  You  did 
just  what  you  ought  to  do.  That  gang's  goin'  to  do  all 
right  by  you.  They're  goin'  to  be  fair.  Don't  you  let 
any  of  'em  give  you  any  lip.  If  they  do,  soak  'em.  I'll 
see  that  you  git  fair  play.  You  can  come  around  where 
I  am  any  time  you  want  to.  Just  come  and  tell  me." 
He  patted  Frank's  shoulder. 

8 


THE    FI  NANCI  ER 

Frank  realized  he  was  talking  to  a  leader.  Gilligan 
looked  it.  He  was  so  raw,  so  uncouth,  so  strange;  still 
he  was  fine  and  strong  and  brave,  and  Frank  liked  him. 

"I  don't  want  to  have  any  trouble,"  he  suggested, 
quietly.  "I  didn't  start  it.  I  really  didn't  mean  to  hit 
him  as  hard  as  I  did  at  first." 

"Don't  you  worry.  He  can  take  care  of  himself. 
You're  in  with  me.  I'm  your  friend.  You  and  I  are 
pards.  I  live  over  here  in  Vine  Street." 

Cowperwood  smiled  gladly.  "All  right,"  he  said. 
"I'm  afraid  they'll  jump  on  me  if  you  don't  head  'em 
off." 

"No,  they  won't.  If  any  one  of  'em  says  a  word  you 
let  me  know.  They  won't  do  it  again." 

He  accompanied  Frank  to  his  door.  Gilligan  shook 
hands  with  him. 

"Say,  Cowperwood,"  he  said,  "you're  fine.  Come 
around  some  Saturday.  I'm  always  over  there  about  one 
or  two  o'clock." 

Frank  smiled.     "All  right!"  he  said. 

He  went  in,  and  Mr.  Gilligan  strolled  away. 

"Say,"  he  chuckled  to  himself,  as  he  strolled,  "that 
was  a  real  fight,  that  was.  Gee,  he's  got  a  punch!  That's 
the  end  of  Spat  McGlathery,  all  right.  He  got  all  that 
was  comin'  to  him — say!" 

Meanwhile  Mr.  Spat  McGlathery  had  returned  to  his 
home  in  Topper's  Alley,  a  region  that  swarmed  with  low- 
caste  laboring  life,  and  there  meditated  on  the  fortunes 
of  those  who  encounter  unexpected  and  untoward  forces. 
It  was  a  sad  afternoon  for  him.  Still  he  did  not  despair. 
He  had  simply  found  some  one  at  last  who  could  thorough 
ly  "lick"  him. 

For  a  time  thereafter  Mr.  Cowperwood  was  patronized 
by  Mr.  Gilligan,  but  only  in  an  admiring,  friendly  way. 
Mr.  Gilligan  wanted  to  attach  him  to  his  retinue  of  stars; 
but  that  could  not  be  done  very  well.  Mr.  Cowperwood's 
home  ties  were  too  exacting.  They  did  explore  certain 

9 


THE    FINANCIER 

sections  of  the  city  together.  Mr.  Gilligan  did  "sic" 
him  "on  to"  certain  boastful  persons  whose  colors,  in 
his  estimation,  needed  to  be  lowered;  but  Frank  was  in 
a  way  ashamed  to  do  useless  and  pointless  fighting.  He 
liked  Mr.  Gilligan — his  spirit — but  his  connections  were 
rather  reprehensible.  So,  after  a  time,  he  judiciously 
cut  him,  giving  suave  excuses,  and  Mr.  Gilligan  really 
took  no  offense.  Frank  made  him  see  how  it  was.  Out 
of  friendship  he  gradually  let  him  go.  But  the  street- 
corner  gang  at  Second  and  Arch  never  molested  him  after 
that  one  encounter. 

From  the  very  start  of  his  life  Frank  wanted  to  know 
about  economics  and  politics.  He  cared  nothing  for 
books.  He  was  a  clean,  stocky,  shapely  boy  with  a  bright, 
clean-cut,  incisive  face;  large,  clear  gray  eyes;  a  wide 
forehead;  short,  bristly,  dark-brown  hair.  He  had  an 
incisive,  quick-motioned,  self-sufficient  manner,  and  was 
forever  asking  questions  with  a  keen  desire  for  a  brief 
and  intelligent  reply.  He  did  not  know  what  sickness 
was,  never  had  an  ache  or  pain,  ate  his  food  with  gusto, 
and  ruled  his  brothers  with  a  rod  of  iron.  "Come  on, 
Joe!  Hurry,  Ed!"  These  commands  were  issued  in  no 
rough,  but  always  a  sure  way;  and  Joe  and  Ed  came. 
They  looked  up  to  Frank  from  the  first  as  a  master;  and 
what  he  had  to  say,  or  what  he  saw  or  encountered,  was 
listened  to  eagerly.  He  himself  was  pondering,  ponder 
ing,  pondering — one  fact  astonishing  him  quite  as  much 
as  another,  for  he  could  not  figure  out  how  this  thing  he 
had  come  into — this  life — was  organized.  How  did  all 
these  people  get  into  the  world?  What  were  they  doing 
here?  Who  started  things,  anyhow?  His  mother  told 
him  the  story  of  Adam  and  Eve;  but  he  didn't  believe 
it.  There  was  a  fish-market  not  so  very  far  from  his 
own  home;  and  there,  when  he  went  to  see  his  father  at 
the  bank,  or  when  he  took  his  brothers  on  after-school 
expeditions  for  mail  or  errands  for  his  father,  he  liked  to 
look  at  a  certain  tank  in  front  of  one  store  where  they 

10 


THE    FINANCIER 

kept  odd  specimens  of  sea-life  which  the  Delaware  Bay 
fishermen  would  bring  in.  He  saw  once  there  a  sea 
horse — just  a  queer  little  sea-animal  that  looked  some 
what  like  a  horse — and  another  time  he  saw  an  electric 
eel  which  Franklin's  discovery  had  explained.  One  day 
he  saw  a  jelly-fish  put  in,  and  then  a  squid,  and  then  a 
lobster.  The  lobster  and  the  squid  came  well  along  in 
his  fish  experiences;  he  was  witness  of  a  familiar  tragedy 
in  connection  with  these  two,  which  stayed  with  him 
all  his  life  and  cleared  things  up  considerably  intel 
lectually.  The  squid,  it  appeared  from  the  talk  of  the 
idle  bystanders  who  were  always  loafing  about  this  mar 
ket,  was  considered  the  rightful  prey  of  the  lobster;  and 
the  latter  had  no  other  food  offered  him.  The  lobster  lay 
at  the  bottom  of  the  clear  glass  tank  on  the  yellow  sand, 
apparently  seeing  nothing — you  could  not  tell  in  which 
way  his  beady,  black  buttons  of  eyes  were  looking — but 
apparently  they  were  never  off  the  body  of  the  squid. 
The  latter,  pale  and  waxy  in  texture,  looking  very  much 
like  pork  fat  or  jade,  was  moving  about  in  torpedo  fash 
ion;  but  his  movements  were  apparently  never  out  of 
the  eyes  of  his  enemy,  for  by  degrees  small  portions  of 
his  body  began  to  disappear,  snapped  off  by  the  relent 
less  claws  of  his  pursuer.  The  latter,  as  young  Cowper- 
wood  was  one  day  a  witness,  would  leap  like  a  catapult 
to  where  the  squid  was  apparently  idly  dreaming,  and 
the  squid,  very  alert,  would  dart  away,  shooting  out  at 
the  same  time  a  cloud  of  ink,  behind  which  it  would  dis 
appear.  It  was  not  always  completely  successful,  how 
ever.  Some  small  portions  of  its  body  or  its  tail  were 
frequently  left  in  the  claws  of  the  monster  below.  Days 
passed,  and,  now  fascinated  by  the  drama,  young  Cowper- 
wood  came  daily.  - 

"Say,  pa,"  he  said  to  his  father,  one  night,  "did  you 
ever  see  that  tank  in  front  of  Joralemon's?" 

"Yes,  I  know  where  it  is,"  said  his  father. 

1 '  Did  you  ever  see  the  squid  and  lobster  they  got  in  there  ?" 

ii 


THE    FINANCIER 

"I  don't  know.     Why?" 

"Well,  that  lobster's  going  to  eat  that  squid.  I  can 
see  more  and  more  of  him  gone  every  day." 

"How's  that?"  asked  his  father,  indifferently. 

"Why,  that  old  lobster  he  just  lies  down  there  on  the 
bottom  of  the  tank,  and  he  keeps  his  eyes  fixed  on  that 
squid;  and  every  now  and  then  he  jumps  up  with  a  bang, 
and  he  almost  gets  him.  Sometimes  he  does  get  him — 
a  little ;  but  the  squid  pulls  away.  He's  nipped  off  almost 
half  his  tail  by  now.  And  you  know  that  ink-bag  he 
carries — that  stuff  he  shoots  out  to  make  a  cloud?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  that's  almost  empty  now.  He's  shot  out  so 
much  he  ain't  got  any  more,  or  hardly  any  more." 

"He  hasn't  any  more,"  corrected  his  father. 

"Well,"  went  on  his  son,  ignoring  the  correction,  "you 
see,  he's  getting  tired.  I  can  see  it.  I've  been  watching 
him  every  day  now  for  a  week,  and  he's  getting  weaker 
all  the  time.  That  lobster  won't  give  him  any  rest.  I 
can  see  him  looking  at  him  all  the  time.  He's  goin'  to 
get  him.  That  squid's  a  goner.  He's  goin'  to  get  him, 
sure!" 

He  paused,  his  eye  alight,  his  whole  body  keyed  up. 
He  was  interested — not  pityingly  so  much  as  dramatically 
interested.  His  young  face  was  keen  and  hungry  for 
further  information. 

"Well,  what  of  that?"  asked  his  father,  curiously. 

"Oh,  nothing.  Only  I'm  going  by  there  in  the  morn 
ing.  I  want  to  see  whether  he's  got  him." 

In  the  morning  he  went,  his  young  pantalooned  legs 
squared  out  solidly  in  front  of  the  tank.  The  squid  was 
not  gone,  but  a  piece  of  him;  and  his  ink-bag  was  emptier 
than  ever.  In  the  corner  of  the  tank  sat  the  lobster, 
poised  apparently  for  action. 

Young  Cowperwood  put  his  nose  to  the  glass.  He 
looked  solemnly  at  the  lobster.  He  stayed  as  long  as  he 
could,  the  bitter  struggle  fascinating  him.  He  liked  to 

12 


THE    FINANCIER 

study  the  rough  claw  with  which  the  lobster  did  his  deadly 
work.  He  liked  to  stare  at  the  squid  and  think  how  fate 
ful  was  his  doom.  Now,  maybe,  or  in  an  hour  or  a  day, 
he  might  die,  slain  by  the  lobster,  and  the  lobster  would 
eat  him.  He  looked  again  at  the  greenish-copperish  en 
gine  of  destruction  in  the  corner  and  wondered  when  this 
would  be.  To-night,  maybe.  He  would  come  back  to 
night. 

He  returned  one  night,  and  lo!  to  his  grief  and  aston 
ishment,  his  wish  was  granted.  There  was  a  little  crowd 
around  the  tank.  The  lobster  was  ir>  the  corner.  Be 
fore  him  was  the  squid  cut  in  two  and  partially  de 
voured. 

"He  got  him  at  last,"  observed  one  bystander.  "I 
was  standing  right  here  an  hour  ago,  and  up  he  leaped 
and  grabbed  him.  The  squid  was  too  tired.  He  wasn't 
quick  enough.  He  did  back  up,  but  that  lobster  he  cal 
culated  on  his  doing  that.  He's  been  figuring  on  his 
movements  for  a  long  time  now.  He  got  him  to-day." 

"Well,  I  swan!"  somebody  observed. 

Cowperwood  Junior  only  stared.  He  had  missed  this. 
It  was  too  bad.  He  wanted  to  see  it.  The  least  touch  of 
sorrow  came  to  him  for  the  squid  as  he  stared  at  it  slain. 
Then  he  stared  at  the  victor. 

"That's  the  way  it  has  to  be,  I  guess,"  he  commented 
to  himself.  ' '  That  squid  wasn't  quick  enough.  He  didn't 
have  anything  to  feed  on."  He  figured  it  out;  The 
squid  couldn't  kill  the  lobster — he  had  no  weapon.  The 
lobster  could  kill  the  squid — he  was  heavily  armed. 
There  was  nothing  for  the  squid  to  feed  on;  the  lobster 
had  the  squid  as  prey.  What  was  the  result  to  be  ?  What 
else  could  it  be?  "He  didn't  have  a  chance,"  he  said, 
finally,  tucking  his  books  under  his  arm  and  trotting  on. 

It  made  a  great  impression  on  him.  It  answered  in 
a  rough  way  that  riddle  which  had  been  annoying  him 
so  much  in  the  past:  "How  is  life  organized?"  Things 
lived  on  each  other — that  was  it.  Lobsters  lived  on  squids 

13 


THE    FINANCIER 

and  other  things.  What  lived  on  lobsters?  Men,  of 
course!  Sure,  that  was  it!  And  what  lived  on  men?  he 
asked  himself.  Was  it  other  men?  Wild  animals  lived 
on  men.  And  there  were  Indians  and  cannibals.  And 
some  men  were  killed  by  storms  and  accidents.  He 
wasn't  so  sure  about  men  living  on  men  yet ;  but  men  did 
kill  each  other.  How  about  wars  and  street  fights  and 
mobs?  He  had  seen  a  mob  once.  It  attacked  the  Public 
Ledger  building  as  he  was  coming  home  from  school.  His 
father  had  explained  what  for,  too.  There  was  great 
excitement.  It  was  about  the  slaves.  That  was  it! 
Sure,  men  lived  on  men.  Look  at  the  slaves.  They  were 
men.  That's  what  all  this  excitement  was  about  these 
days.  Men  killing  other  men — negroes. 

He  went  on  home  quite  pleased  with  himself  at  his 
solution. 

"Say,"  he  said  to  his  mother,  that  night,  " he  got  him, 
mother!" 

"Got  who?     What  got  what?     Go  wash  your  hands." 

"Why,  that  lobster  got  that  squid  I  was  telling  you  and 
pa  about." 

"Well,  that's  all  right.  It's  too  bad.  What  makes 
you  take  any  interest  in  such  things?  Run,  wash  your 
hands." 

"Well,  it's  interesting.  You  don't  often  see  anything 
like  that.  I  never  did." 

He  went  out  in  the  back  yard,  where  there  was  a  hy 
drant  and  a  post  with  a  little  table  on  it,  and  on  that  a 
cleanly  tin-pan  and  a  bucket  of  water.  Here  he  washed 
his  face  and  hands. 

"Say,  papa,"  he  said  to  his  father,  later,  "you  know 
that  squid?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  he's  dead.     The  lobster  got  him." 

The  father  stared  at  his  paper.  "Well,  that's  too  bad," 
he  said,  indifferently. 

For  days  and  weeks  Frank  thought  of  this  and  of  the  life 

14 


THE    FINANCIER 

he  was  tossed  into,  for  he  was  already  thinking  of  what 
he  should  be  in  this  world,  and  how  he  should  get  along. 
From  seeing  his  father  count  money,  he  was  sure  that  he 
would  like  banking;  and  Third  Street,  where  his  father's 
office  was,  seemed  to  him  the  cleanest,  brightest,  most 
fascinating  street  in  the  world. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  growth  of  young  Frank  Algernon  Cowperwood 
was  through  years  of  what  might  be  called  a  com 
fortable  and  happy  family  existence,  for,  although  the 
first  ten  years  of  his  life  had  been  spent  in  Buttonwood 
Street,  he  was,  of  course,  very  young  and  knew  little  of 
those  social  distinctions  which  afterward  became  so  marked 
in  his  consciousness.  Buttonwood  Street  was  a  lovely 
place  to  live  for  a  boy.  It  contained  mostly  small  two  and 
three  story  brick  houses — red,  of  course — with  small, 
white-marble  steps  leading  up  to  the  front  door,  and  thin, 
white-marble  trimmings  outlining  the  front  door  and 
windows.  There  were  trees  in  the  street — plenty  of 
them.  The  road  pavement  was  of  big,  round  cobble 
stones  made  bright  and  clean  by  the  rains;  and  the  side 
walks  were  of  brick — red,  of  course — and  always  damp  and 
cool.  In  the  windows,  in  summer-time,  were  sometimes 
flowers;  and  in  the  rear  always  was  a  yard  with  trees  and 
flowers  and  grass,  for  the  lots  were  almost  always  one 
hundred  feet  deep,  and  the  house-fronts,  crowding  close 
to  the  pavement  in  front,  left  a  comfortable  space  in  the 
rear.  The  Cowperwoods,  father  and  mother,  were  not 
so  lean  and  narrow  that  they  could  not  enter  into  the 
natural  tendency  to  be  happy  and  joyous  with  their  chil 
dren;  and  so  this  family,  which  increased  at  the  rate  of  a 
child  every  two  or  three  years  after  Frank's  birth,  was 
quite  an  interesting  affair  when  he  was  ten,  and  they  were 
ready  to  move  into  the  New  Market  Street  home.  Henry 
Worthington  Cowperwood's  connections  were  increased 
as  his  position  grew  more  responsible,  and  gradually  he 
was  becoming  quite  a  personage.  He  already  knew  a 

16 


THE    FINANCIER 

number  of  the  more  prosperous  merchants  who  dealt  with 
his  bank,  and  because,  as  a  clerk,  during  banking  hours 
he  frequently  had  to  hurry  about  to  other  banking-houses 
and  brokers  making  exchanges,  verifying  accounts  and 
checks,  he  had  come  to  be  familiar  with  and  favorably 
known  in  the  Bank  of  the  United  States,  the  Drexels, 
the  Edwardses,  and  others.  The  brokers  knew  him  as 
representing  a  very  sound  organization  and  being  particu 
larly  reliable  and  trustworthy.  He  was  not  brilliant, 
but  apparently  honest  and  worthy  of  confidence  in  many 
things. 

"Hey,  Hy!"  they  sometimes  called  to  him.  (Hy  Cow- 
perwood  he  was  known  as  in  his  earlier  days.)  "How 
are  things  over  in  youf  place?"  And  they  secured  advice 
as  to  the  looseness  or  tightness  of  money  as  he  would  hear 
of  it,  and  how  credits  were  running.  When  his  teller- 
ship  arrived  he  was  not  so  familiarly  greeted,  except  by 
those  who  were  much  superior  to  him  financially. 

In  this  progress  of  his  father,  once  he  was  ten  years 
old  and  the  former  had  become  teller,  young  Cowper- 
wood  definitely  shared.  It  was  not  uncommon  for  Cow- 
perwood  Senior  to  let  his  boy  come  to  the  bank  on  Satur 
days,  when  he  was  not  at  school,  and  witness  the  deft 
exchange  of  bills  at  the  brokerage  end  of  the  business,  at 
the  counting  of  which,  and  the  calculations  in  connection 
with  which,  his  father  was  an  expert.  Young  Cowper- 
wood  was  vastly  interested  in  this  process — wanted  to 
know  where  all  the  types  of  money  came  from,  why  dis 
counts  of  from  ten  to  fifteen  per  cent,  were  demanded  and 
received,  what  the  men  did  with  all  the  money  they  re 
ceived.  His  father  was  glad  to  explain,  pleased  at  his 
interest;  and  Frank  was  eager  to  learn.  Even  at  this 
early  age — from  ten  to  fifteen — he  gained  a  wide  knowl 
edge  of  the  condition  of  the  country  financially — what  a 
State  bank  was,  and  what  a  national  one;  what  brokers 
did;  what  stocks  were,  and  bonds,  and  why  they  fluctu 
ated  in  value,  and  why  they  were  quoted  in  the  papers. 


THE    FINANCIER 

He  began  to  see  clearly  what  was  meant  by  money  as  a 
medium  of  exchange,  and  how  all  values  were  calculated 
according  to  one  primary  value,  that  of  gold.  If  gold 
were  high  or  scarce,  money  was  said  to  be  tight,  and  times 
were  bad.  If  gold  was  plentiful,  money  was  easy,  credits 
were  large,  and  business  was  flourishing.  Young  Cowper- 
wood  finally  studied  all  this  out  for  himself,  coming  to  a 
clear  understanding  of  banking  as  a  machine  for  doing 
business.  It  facilitated,  as  he  saw  it,  the  exchange  of 
this  general  medium,  gold,  or  its  certificates  of  presence 
and  deposit  and  ownership.  Finance  fascinated  him  much 
as  art  might  fascinate  another  boy,  or  literature  another. 
He  was  a  financier  by  instinct,  and  all  the  knowledge  that 
pertained  to  that  great  art  was  as  natural  to  him  as  the 
emotions  and  subleties  of  life  are  to  a  poet.  This  medium 
of  exchange,  gold,  interested  him  intensely.  He  asked 
his  father  where  it  came  from,  and  when  told  that  it  was 
mined,  dreamed  that  he  owned  a  gold-mine  and  waked 
to  wish  that  he  did.  Even  what  gold  was  made  of — its 
chemical  constituents — interested  and  held  his  attention. 
He  marveled  that  it  ever  came  to  be,  and  how  it  was 
finally  selected  as  the  medium  or  standard  of  exchange. 
So  all  those  piles  of  bills  on  his  father's  desk — those  yellow 
and  green  papers — represented  gold  deposited  somewhere, 
or  claimed  to  be  deposited.  If  they  were  worth  their 
face  value,  the  gold  was  where  the  certificate  said  it  was; 
if  the  certificate  was  not  worth  its  face  value,  the  presence 
of  the  gold  was  in  question,  or  hard  to  get  at,  just  so 
much  as  the  certificate  was  discounted.  He  was  in 
terested  in  stocks  and  bonds,  too,  which  were  constantly 
being  deposited  as  collateral;  and  he  learned  that  some 
stocks  and  bonds  were  not  worth  the  paper  they  were 
written  on,  and  that  others  were  worth  much  more  than 
their  face  value  indicated. 

"There,  my  son,"  said  his  father  to  him,  one  day,  "you 
won't  often  see  a  bundle  of  those  around  this  neighbor 
hood." 

18 


THE    FINANCIER 

They  were  a  series  of  shares  in  the  British  East  India 
Company  deposited  as  collateral,  at  two- thirds  of  their 
face  value,  for  a  loan  of  one  hundred  thousand  dollars. 
Some  Philadelphia  magnate  of  the  day  owned  them,  and 
had  hypothecated  them  for  the  use  of  the  ready  cash 
which  he  needed.  Young  Cowperwood  looked  at  them 
curiously. 

"Say,  they're  plain-looking,  aren't  they?"  he  com 
mented,  curiously. 

"They  are  worth  just  four  times  their  face  value,"  said 
his  father,  archly. 

Frank  Cowperwood  re-examined  them.  "The  British 
East  India  Company,"  he  read.  "Ten  pounds — that's 
pretty  near  fifty  dollars." 

"Forty-eight  thirty-five,"  commented  his  father,  dry 
ly.  "Well,  if  we  had  a  bundle  of  those  we  wouldn't  need 
to  work  very  hard.  You'll  notice  there  are  scarcely  any 
pin-marks  on  these.  They  aren't  hauled  around  very 
much.  I  don't  suppose  these  have  ever  been  used  as  col 
lateral  before." 

Young  Cowperwood  gave  them  back  after  a  time, 
but  not  without  a  keen  sense  of  the  vast  ramifications  of 
finance.  What  was  the  East  India  Company?  What 
did  it  do?  His  father  told  him.  These  shares  in  com 
panies  interested  him.  They  made  him  think  that  he 
would  handle  shares  of  his  own  some  day. 

At  the  Cowperwood  home  also,  as  young  Frank  grew 
older,  there  was  considerable  talk  at  one  time  and  another 
of  this  and  that  financial  investment  and  adventure.  He 
heard,  for  one  thing,  of  a  curious  character  by  the  name 
of  Steemberger,  who  was  a  great  beef  speculator  from 
Virginia  at  the  time,  and  who  was  attracted  to  Phila 
delphia  in  those  days  by  the  hope  of  large  and  easy 
credits.  Steemberger,  so  his  father  said,  had  formerly 
been  close  to  Nicholas  Biddle,  Lardner,  and  others  of  the 
United  States  Bank,  or  at  least  friendly  with  them,  and 
seemed  to  be  able  to  obtain  from  that  organization  nearly 

19 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

all  that  he  asked  for.  His  operations  in  the  purchase  of 
cattle  in  Virginia,  Ohio,  and  other  States  were  vast, 
amounting,  in  fact,  to  an  entire  monopoly  of  the  business 
of  supplying  beef  to  Eastern  cities.  He  was  a  big  man, 
enormous,  with  a  face,  his  father  said,  something  like  that 
of  a  pig;  and  he  wore  a  high  beaver  hat  and  a  long  frock- 
coat  which  hung  loosely  about  his  big  chest  and  stomach. 
He  had  managed  to  force  the  price  of  beef  up  to  thirty 
cents  a  pound  at  this  time,  causing  all  the  retailers  and 
consumers  to  rebel,  and  this  was  what  made  him  so  con 
spicuous.  He  used  to  come  to  the  elder  Cowperwood's 
bank,  or,  rather,  the  brokerage  end  of  it,  with  as  much  as 
one  hundred  thousand  or  two  hundred  thousand  dollars 
in  twelve  months — post-notes  of  the  United  States  Bank 
in  denominations  of  one  thousand,  five  thousand,  and 
ten  thousand  dollars.  These  he  would  cash  at  from  ten 
to  twelve  per  cent,  under  their  face  value,  having  pre 
viously  given  the  United  States  Bank  his  own  note  at  four 
months  for  the  entire  amount.  He  would  take  his  pay 
from  the  Third  National  brokerage  counter  in  packages 
of  Virginia,  Ohio,  and  western  Pennsylvania  bank-notes 
at  par,  because  he  made  his  disbursements  principally  in 
those  States.  The  Third  National  would  in  the  first  place 
realize  a  profit  of  from  four  to  five  per  cent,  on  the 
original  transaction;  and  as  it  took  the  Western  bank 
notes  at  a  discount,  it  also  made  a  profit  on  those. 
Young  Frank  listened  to  the  story  of  these  transactions 
with  a  greedy  ear.  They  seemed  wonderful  to  him;  but 
this  whole  world  of  money  was  like  a  fairyland,  full  of 
delight.  Why,  in  Third  Street  there  was  nothing  but 
money,  great  piles  of  it. 

There  was  another  man  his  father  told  him  about — or 
rather  told  his  mother  and  he  overheard — who  was  known 
as  "Francis  J.  Grund."  He  was  apparently  a  famous 
newspaper  correspondent  and  lobbyist  at  Washington, 
and  possessed  the  faculty  of  getting  at  and  developing 
secrets  of  every  kind,  especially  if  they  related  to  financial 

20 


THE    FINANCIER 

legislation.  The  secrets  of  the  President  and  the  Cabinet, 
as  well  as  of  the  Senate  and  the  House  of  Representatives, 
seemed  to  be  open  to  him.  Grund  had  been  about,  years 
before,  purchasing  through  one  or  two  brokers  large 
amounts  of  the  various  kinds  of  Texas  debt  certificates 
and  bonds,  which,  as  Frank's  father  observed,  other  gov 
ernment  officials  of  that  time  were  also  doing.  The  Re 
public  of  Texas,  in  its  struggle  for  independence  from 
Mexico,  had  issued  bonds  and  certificates  in  great  variety, 
amounting  in  value  to  ten  or  fifteen  million  dollars.  A 
scheme  had  been  on  foot  to  make  Texas  a  State  of  the 
Union,  and  a  bill  was  finally  passed  providing  a  contribu 
tion  on  the  part  of  the  United  States  of  five  million  dollars, 
to  be  applied  to  the  extinguishment  of  this  old  debt.  Grund 
knew  of  this,  and  also  of  the  fact  that  some  of  this  debt, 
owing  to  the  peculiar  conditions  of  issue,  was  to  be  paid  in 
full,  while  other  portions  wrere  to  be  scaled  down,  and  there 
was  to  be  a  false  or  prearranged  failure  to  pass  the  bill 
appropriating  the  five  million  dollars  at  one  session,  in 
order  to  frighten  off  the  outsiders  who  might  have  heard 
and  begun  to  buy  the  old  certificates  for  their  own  profit. 
Grund  knew  of  this.  The  Third  National  knew  of  Grund's 
knowledge  through  him;  and  Cowperwood,  as  teller,  was 
also  informed  in  some  way.  He  told  his  wife  about  it 
afterward ;  and  so  his  son,  in  this  roundabout  way,  heard  it, 
and  his  clear,  big  eyes  glistened.  He  wondered  why  his 
father  did  not  take  advantage  of  it  and  buy  some  Texas 
certificates  himself,  but  the  latter  was  too  honest,  too 
careful.  So  this  was  the  way  money  was  made.  Men 
schemed  and  planned,  and  then  they  reaped  big  profits. 
Grund,  so  his  father  said,  and  possibly  three  or  four  others, 
had  made  over  a  hundred  thousand  dollars  apiece.  It 
wasn't  exactly  legitimate,  he  seemed  to  think,  and  yet  it 
was,  too.  Why  shouldn't  such  inside  information  be  re 
warded?  Somehow,  Frank  realized  that  his  father  had 
never  been  involved  in  any  way  in  these,  to  him,  won 
derful  operations.  Why?  Why  didn't  his  father  make  a 

21 


THE    FI  NANCIER 

hundred  thousand  dollars  out  of  something?  Look  at 
Steemberger,  with  a  hundred  thousand  dollars  in  notes 
in  his  hat,  and  this  man  Grund,  and  others!  When  he 
grew  up,  Frank  told  himself,  he  was  going  to  be  a  broker, 
or  a  financier,  or  a  banker,  and  do  some  of  these  things. 
It  was  so  easy  for  him  to  see  how  they  were  done.  You 
had  to  get  in  with  people — that  was  how:  you  had  to 
know  what  was  going  on.  His  father  was  nice,  but  he 
was  slow — surely  he  was.  If  he  were  his  father,  now. 

He  walked  to  school  each  day  thinking  of  these  things; 
but  he  was  sick  of  school  and  books.  What  did  his 
teachers  know  about  money?  Nothing.  What  did  these 
other  boys  know  of  what  was  going  on  in  Third  Street? 
Not  a  thing.  Why,  a  man  might  get  down  in  there  and 
get  rich  before  anybody  knew  anything  about  anything. 
He  wondered  that  the  street  was  not  crowded  with  peo 
ple  like  Steemberger  and  Grund.  It  was  so  easy.  He 
could  see  how  it  was.  He  could  see  how  he  could  do  it. 
Wait.  He  would  be  a  broker,  that's  what  he  would  be; 
and  that  just  as  quick  as  he  was  out  of  school,  if  not 
sooner.  He  would  work  and  coin  some  money,  and  then 
he  would  become  a  broker,  and  then  he  would  become 
rich. 

There  was  an  uncle  who  came  to  the  Cowperwoods' 
house  about  this  time — the  one  in  New  Market  Street — 
when  they  became  well  located  there,  who  had  not  previ 
ously  appeared  in  the  life  of  young  Cowperwood  and  his 
brothers  and  sister.  He  was  rather  a  fascinating  type  of 
man,  solid  and  unctuous,  say  five  feet  ten  in  height,  with  a 
big,  round  body,  a  round,  smooth  head  rather  bald,  a  clear, 
ruddy  complexion,  blue  eyes,  and  what  little  hair  he  had 
of  a  sandy  hue.  He  was  exceedingly  well  dressed  for  men 
of  those  days,  indulging  in  flowered  waistcoats,  long,  light- 
colored  frock-coats,  and  the  invariable  (for  a  fairly  pros 
perous  man)  high  hat.  Frank  was  fascinated  by  him, 
because  he  had  been  a  planter  in  Cuba  and  still  owned 
a  big  ranch  there,  and  could  tell  him  tales  of  Cuban  life— - 

22 


THE    FINANCIER 

rebellions,  ambuscades,  hand-to-hand  fighting  with  ma 
chetes  on  his  own  plantation,  and  things  of  that  sort. 
He  was  a  brother  of  Mrs.  Cowperwood,  Seneca  Davis  by 
name;  and  he  brought  from  Cuba,  where  he  had  been  for 
ten  years,  a  collection  of  Indian  curios,  to  say  nothing 
of  an  independent  fortune  and  several  slaves.  He  had 
one  slave,  named  Manuel,  a  tall,  raw-boned  black,  who 
was  his  constant  attendant,  a  body-servant  as  it  were. 
He  still  had  his  s,ugar-plantation,  and  at  this  day  shipped 
raw  sugar  in  boat-loads  to  the  Southwark  wharves  in 
Philadelphia.  Frank  liked  him  because  he  took  life  in  a 
hearty,  jovial  way,  rather  rough  and  offhand  for  this 
somewhat  quiet  and  reserved  household. 

"Why,  Nancy  Arabella,"  he  said  to  Mrs.  Cowperwood, 
on  arriving  one  Sunday  afternoon,  when  the  household 
was  thrown  into  joyous  astonishment  at  his  unexpected 
and  unheralded  appearance,  "you  haven't  grown  an 
inch!  I  thought  when  you  married  old  Brother  Hy  here 
that  you  were  going  to  fatten  up  and  grow  tall,  something 
like  your  brother.  Look  at  you!  I  swear  to  Heaven 
you  don't  weigh  five  pound."  And  he  jounced  her  up 
and  down  by  the  waist,  much  to  the  perturbation  of  the 
children,  who  had  never  before  seen  their  mother  so 
familiarly  handled.  Henry  Cowperwood  was  exceedingly 
interested  in  and  pleased  at  the  arrival  of  this  rather 
prosperous  relative ;  for,  twelve  years  before,  when  he  was 
married,  Seneca  Davis  had  not  taken  much  notice  of  him. 
He  was  a  man  of  his  own  age,  but  a  much  more  forceful 
type  of  character. 

"Look  at  all  these  little  putty-faced  Philadelphians. 
They  ought  to  come  down  to  my  ranch  in  Cuba  and  get 
tanned  up.  That  would  take  away  this  waxy  look." 
And  he  pinched  the  cheek  of  Anna  Adelaide,  the  only 
girl,  now  five  years  old.  "I  tell  you,  Henry,  you  have  a 
rather  nice  place  here."  And  he  looked  at  the  main 
room  of  the  rather  conventional  three-story  house  with 
a  critical  eye. 

23 


THE    FfNANCIER 

It  was  nice.  This  particular  room  was  twenty  by 
twenty-four,  and  finished  in  imitation  cherry,  with  a  set 
of  new  and  shapely  Sheraton  parlor  furniture.  Since 
Henry,  the  father,  had  become  teller  of  the  Third  National 
the  family  had  indulged  in  a  piano — a  decided  luxury  in 
those  days — brought  from  Europe;  and  it  was  intended 
that  Anna  Adelaide,  when  she  was  old  enough,  should 
learn  to  play.  There  were  a  few  uncommon  ornaments 
in  the  room — a  gas-chandelier  for  one  thing,  a  glass  bowl 
with  goldfish  in  it,  some  rare  and  highly  polished  shells, 
and  a  marble  Cupid  bearing  a  basket  of  flowers,  which 
Cowperwood  had  picked  up  somewhere  at  a  sale.  It  was 
summer-time,  the  windows  were  open,  and  the  trees  out 
side,  with  their  softly  extended  green  branches,  were 
pleasantly  visible  shading  the  brick  sidewalk.  Uncle 
Seneca  strolled  out  into  the  back  yard  to  see  if  they  had 
a  hammock. 

"Well,  this  is  pleasant  enough,"  he  observed,  noting 
a  large  elm  and  seeing  that  the  yard  was  partially  paved 
with  brick  and  inclosed  within  brick  walls,  up  the  sides 
of  which  vines  were  clambering.  "Where's  your  ham 
mock?  Don't  you  string  a  hammock  here  in  summer? 
Down  on  my  verandas  at  San  Pedro  I  have  six  or  seven." 

He  noted  Edward,  the  youngest  boy,  at  his  side,  with 
Frank  in  the  distance,  looking  at  him.  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Cowperwood  were  conservatively  located  in  the  doorway. 

"We  hadn't  thought  of  putting  one  up  because  of  the 
neighbors;  but  it  would  be  nice.  Henry  will  have  to 
get  one." 

"I  have  two  or  three  in  my  trunks  over  at  the  hotel. 
I  thought  you  mightn't  have  any.  My  niggers  make  'em 
down  there.  I'll  send  Manuel  over  with  them  in  the 
morning." 

He  plucked  at  the  vines,  tweaked  Edward's  ear,  told 
Joseph,  the  second  boy,  he  would  bring  him  an  Indian 
tomahawk,  and  went  back  into  the  house. 

"This  is  the  lad  that  interests  me,"  he  said,  after  a 

24 


THE    FINANCIER 

time,  laying  his  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  Frank.     "What 
did  you  name  him  in  full,  Henry?" 

"Frank  Algernon." 

"Well,  you  might  have  named  him  after  me.  There's 
something  to  this  boy.  He's  got  something  in  his  eye. 
How  would  you  like  to  come  down  to  Cuba  and  be  a 
planter,  my  boy?" 

"I'm  not  so  sure  that  I'd  like  to,"  replied  the  eldest. 

"Well,  that's  straight-spoken.  What  have  you  against 
it?" 

"Nothing,  except  that  I  don't  know  anything  about 
it." 

' '  What  do  you  know  ?" 

The  boy  smiled  wisely.     "Not  so  very  much,  I  guess." 

"Well,  what  are  you  interested  in?" 

"Money!" 

"Aha!  What's  bred  in  the  bone,  eh!  Get  something 
of  that  from  your  father,  eh?  Well,  that's  a  good  trait. 
And  spoken  like  a  man,  too!  We'll  hear  more  about  that 
later.  Nancy,  you're  breeding  a  financier  here,  I  think. 
He  talks  like  one." 

He  looked  at  this  boy  carefully  now,  and  he  was  im 
pressed.  There  was  real  force  in  that  sturdy  young 
body — no  doubt  of  it.  Those  large,  clear  gray  eyes  in 
dicated  much,  and  revealed  nothing.  They  seemed  full 
of  intelligence  and  light  without  speaking  of  anything 
apparently  that  they  knew. 

"A  smart  boy,"  he  said  to  Henry,  his  brother-in-law. 
"I  like  his  get-up.  You  have  a  bright  family." 

Henry  Cowperwood  smiled  dryly.  None  knew  better 
than  he  Frank's  bent.  And  this  man,  if  he  liked  him, 
might  do  much  for  him.  He  might  eventually  leave  him 
some  of  his  fortune.  He  was  wealthy  and  single. 

Uncle  Seneca  became  a  frequent  visitor  to  the  house — 
he  and  his  negro  body-guard,  Manuel,  who  spoke  both 
English  and  Spanish,  much  to  the  astonishment  of  the 
children;  and  he  took  an  increasing  interest  in  Frank. 
2  25 


THE    FINANCIER 

"When  that  boy  gets  old  enough  to  find  out  what  he 
wants  to  do,  I  think  I'll  help  him  to  do  it,"  he  observed 
to  his  sister  one  day ;  and  she  told  him  she  was  very  grate 
ful.  He  talked  to  Frank  about  his  studies,  and  found 
that  what  he  said  was  true — he  cared  little  for  books  or 
most  of  the  study  he  was  compelled  to  pursue.  Grammar 
was  an  abomination.  Literature  silly.  Latin  was  of  no 
use.  History — well,  it  was  fairly  interesting. 

"I  like  bookkeeping  and  arithmetic,"  he  observed. 
"I  want  to  get  out  and  get  to  work,  though.  That's 
what  I  want  to  do." 

"You're  pretty  young,  my  son,"  observed  his  uncle. 
"You're  only  how  old  now?  Fourteen?" 

"Thirteen." 

"Well,  you  can't  leave  school  much  before  sixteen. 
You'll  do  better  if  you  stay  until  seventeen  or  eighteen. 
It  can't  do  you  any  harm.  You  won't  be  a  boy 
again." 

"I  don't  want  to  be  a  boy.     I  want  to  get  to  work." 

"  Don't  go  too  fast,  .son.  You'll  be  a  man  soon  enough. 
Be  quiet.  Study  now.  When  the  time  comes  you'll  get 
a  good  start.  You  want  to  be  a  banker,  do  you?" 

"Yes,  sir!" 

"Well,  when  the  time  comes,  if  everything  is  all  right 
and  you've  behaved  yourself  and  you  still  want  to,  I'll 
help  you  get  a  start  in  business.  If  I  were  you  and  were 
going  to  be  a  banker,  I'd  first  spend  a  year  or  so  in  some 
good  grain  and  commission  house.  There's  good  train 
ing  to  be  had  there.  You'll  learn  a  lot  that  you  ought 
to  know.  When  the  time  comes  you  do  that.  And, 
meantime,  keep  your  health  and  learn  all  you  can.  Wher 
ever  I  am,  you  let  me  know,  and  I'll  write  and  find  out 
how  you've  been  conducting  yourself." 

He  brought  some  great  cannon-crackers  out  on  the 
evening  of  July  the  Fourth,  and  he  and  Frank  helped 
entertain  and  disturb  the  neighborhood  by  setting  them 
off.  He  gave  the  boy  a  handsome  purse  and  a  ten-dollar 

26 


THE    FINANCIER 

gold  piece,  which  he  got  from  Henry  Cowperwood  by 
exchange,  to  start  a  bank-account  with. 

"That  boy  is  a  bright  boy,"  he  said  to  the  father. 
"He's  a  real  man  already.  There's  something  to  him. 
He's  going  to  make  his  mark." 

And,  not  strange  to  say,  he  liked  the  whole  Cowper 
wood  household  much  better  for  this  dynamic,  self- 
sufficient,  sterling  youth  who  was  an  integral  part  of  it. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  years  that  passed  between  the  time  that  young 
Cowperwood  was  fully  decided  that  he  wanted  to 
be  a  banker  and  the  time  that  he  actually  achieved 
this  result  were  filled  with  curious  interests.  It  was  in 
his  thirteenth  year  that  he  made  his  first  business  venture 
and  it  was  decidedly  profitable  from  his  point  of  view. 
Near  his  home  in  New  Market  Street  was  a  grocer  where 
his  mother  traded;  and  here  he  was  wont  to  see  great 
piles  of  things  displayed  for  sale  at  one  time  and  another — 
boxes  of  soap,  for  instance,  jars  of  fruit — not  cans,  for 
the  tinning  industry  had  not  developed  in  those  days  to 
the  proportions  it  later  assumed— papers  of  coffee  and  the 
like.  These  things  took  his  eye  and  interested  him  in 
the  ramifications  of  the  grocery  business — where  these 
things  came  from,  principally.  He  knew  from  his  geog 
raphy  now  that  many  things  were  imported  to  this  land 
— coffee,  sugar  (his  uncle  Seneca  did  that),  rice,  tea;  and 
he  wondered  from  time  to  time  whether  there  was  much 
money  in  the  buying  and  selling  of  these  things.  In  far- 
off  China,  practically  unknown  to  the  world  commercially, 
they  grew  and  fired  tea,  and  his  geography  showed 
him  a  picture  of  that.  In  Front  Street  were  spice  houses 
which  imported  spices  from  Java  and  the  Dutch  East 
Indies;  their  signs  said  so.  There  was  one  man  who  sold 
tropical  birds,  brought  by  boat,  and  monkeys;  and  there 
was  another  man  who  offered,  from  time  to  time,  invoices 
of  silks  and  mattings.  The  good  tailoring-houses  brought 
all  their  fine  weaves  from  England ;  and  cutlery  came  from 
the  same  place. 

But  to  return.     One  day  he  was  walking  in  Front  Street, 

28 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

and  he  saw  an  auctioneer's  flag  hanging  out  before  a 
store,  a  wholesale  grocery  store,  and  inside  the  contents 
were  being  disposed  of,  the  owner  having  decided  to  wind 
up  his  business. 

"What  am  I  bid  for  this  exceptional  lot  of  Java  coffee, 
twenty-two  bags  all  told,  which  is  now  selling  in  the 
market  for  seven  dollars  and  thirty-two  cents  a  bag 
wholesale?  What  am  I  bid?  What  am  I  bid?  The 
whole  lot  must  go  as  one.  What  am  I  bid?" 

"Eighteen  dollars,"  suggested  one  trader,  who  was 
standing  near  the  door,  indifferently,  more  to  start  the 
bidding  than  anything  else,  for  he  was  not  vastly  in 
terested  in  coffee.  Frank,  who  was  passing,  paused. 

"Twenty-two!"   called  another. 

"Thirty!"  a  third.  "Thirty-five!"  a  fourth;  and  so 
on  up  to  seventy-five,  less  than  half  of  what  it  was  worth. 

"I'm  bid  seventy-five!  I'm  bid  seventy-five!  I'm 
bid  seventy-five!"  called  the  auctioneer,  loudly.  "Any 
other  offers?  Going  once  at  seventy-five;  am  I  offered 
eighty?  Going  twice  at  seventy-five,  and" — he  paused, 
one  hand  raised  dramatically.  Then  he  brought  it  down 
with  a  slap  in  the  palm  of  the  other — "sold  to  Mr.  Silas 
Gregory  for  seventy-five.  Make  a  note  of  that,  Jerry," 
he  called  to  his  red-headed,  freckle-faced  clerk  beside 
him.  Then  he  turned  to  another  lot  of  grocery  staples 
—this  time  starch,  eleven  barrels  of  it. 

Young  Cowpenvood  was  making  a  rapid  calculation. 
If,  as  the  auctioneer  said,  coffee  was  worth  seven  dollars 
and  thirty-two  cents  a  bag  in  the  open  market,  and  this 
buyer  was  getting  this  coffee  for  seventy-five  dollars,  he 
was  making  then  and  there  eighty-six  dollars  and  four 
cents,  to  say  nothing  of  what  his  profit  would  be  if  he  sold 
it  at  retail  as  Frank's  mother's  grocer  did. 

As  Frank  recalled,  his  mother  was  paying  twenty-eight 
cents  a  pound.  He  drew  nearer,  his  books  tucked  under 
his  arm,  and  watched  these  operations  closely.  The  starch, 
as  he  soon  heard,  was  valued  at  ten  dollars  a  barrel,  and  it 

29 


THE    FI  NANCIER 

only  brought  six.  Some  kegs  of  vinegar  were  knocked 
down  at  one-third  their  value,  and  so  on.  He  began  to 
wish  he  could  bid;  but  he  had  no  money,  just  a  little 
pocket  change.  The  auctioneer  noticed  him  standing 
almost  directly  under  his  nose,  and  was  curious  at  his 
interest.  He  was  also  impressed  with  the  stolidity- 
solidarity — of  the  boy's  expression. 

"  I  am  going  to  offer  you  now  a  fine  lot  of  Castile  soap — 
seven  cases,  no  less,  which,  as  you  know,  if  you  know  any 
thing  about  soap,  is  now  selling  at  fourteen  cents  a  bar. 
This  soap  is  worth  anywhere  at  this  moment  eleven  dol 
lars  and  seventy-five  cents  a  case.  What  am  I  bid? 
What  am  I  bid?  What  am  I  bid?"  He  was  talking  fast 
in  the  usual  style  of  auctioneers,  with  much  unnecessary 
emphasis;  but  Cowperwood  was  not  unduly  impressed. 
He  was  already  rapidly  calculating  for  himself.  Seven 
cases  at  eleven  dollars  and  seventy-five  cents  would  be 
worth  just  eighty-two  dollars  and  twenty-five  cents;  and 
if  it  went  at  half — if  it  went  at  half— 

"Twelve  dollars,"  commented  one  bidder. 

"Fifteen,"  bid  another. 

"Twenty,"  called  a  third. 

"Twenty-five,"  a  fourth. 

Then  it  came  to  dollar  raises,  for  Castile  soap  was 
not  such  a  vital  commodity.  "Twenty-six."  "Twenty- 
seven."  "Twenty-eight."  "Twenty-nine."  There  was 
a  pause. 

"Thirty,"  observed  young  Cowperwood,  decisively. 

The  auctioneer,  a  short,  lean-faced,  spare  man  with 
bushy  hair  and  an  incisive  eye,  looked  at  him  curiously — 
without  pausing,  however.  He  had,  somehow,  in  spite 
of  himself,  been  impressed  by  the  boy's  peculiar  eye;  and 
now  he  felt,  without  knowing  why,  that  the  offer  was 
probably  legitimate  enough,  and  that  the  boy  had  the 
money.  He  might  be  the  son  of  a  grocer. 

"I'm  bid  thirty!  I'm  bid  thirty!  I'm  bid  thirty 
for  this  fine  lot  of  Castile  soap.  It's  a  fine  lot.  It's 

30 


THE    FINANCIER 

worth  fourteen  cents  a  bar.  Will  any  one  bid  thirty- 
one?  Will  any  one  bid  thirty-one?  Will  any  one  bid 
thirty-one?" 

"Thirty-one,"  said  a  voice. 

"Thirty-two,"   replied   Cowperwood. 

The  same  process  was  repeated. 

"I'm  bid  thirty-two!  I'm  bid  thirty-two!  I'm  bid 
thirty-two!  Will  anybody  bid  thirty-three?  It's  fine 
soap.  Seven  cases  of  fine  Castile  soap.  Will  anybody 
bid  thirty-three?" 

Young  Cowperwood's  mind  was  working.  He  had  no 
money  with  him;  but  his  father  was  teller  of  the  Third 
National  Bank,  and  he  could  quote  him  as  references. 
His  uncle  was  Seneca  Davis.  He  could  sell  all  of  his 
soap  to  his  grocer,  surely;  or,  if  not,  to  other  grocers. 
Other  people  were  anxious  to  get  this  soap  at  this  price. 
Why  not  he? 

The  auctioneer  paused. 

"Thirty-two  once!  Am  I  bid  thirty-three?  Thirty- 
two  twice!  Am  I  bid  thirty- three ?  Thirty-two  three 
times!  Seven  fine  cases  of  soap.  Am  I  bid  anything 
more?  Once,  twice!  Three  times!  Am  I  bid  anything 
more?" — his  hand  was  up  again — "and  sold  to  Mr. —  ?" 
He  leaned  over  and  looked  curiously  into  the  face  of  his 
young  bidder. 

"Frank  Cowperwood,  son  of  the  teller  of  the  Third 
National  Bank,"  replied  the  boy,  decisively. 

"Oh  yes,"  said  the  man,  fixed  by  his  glance. 

"Will  you  wait  while  I  run  up  to  the  bank  and  get  the 
money?" 

"Yes.  Don't  be  gone  long.  If  you're  not  here  in  an 
hour  I'll  sell  it  again." 

Young  Cowperwood  made  no  reply.  He  hurried  out 
and  ran  fast;  first,  not  to  his  father,  but  to  his  grocer, 
which  was  within  a  block  of  his  home. 

Thirty  feet  from  the  door  he  slowed  up,  put  on  a  non 
chalant  air,  and,  strolling  in,  looked  about  for  Castile  soap. 


THE    FINANCIER 

There  it  was,  the  same  kind,  displayed  in  a  box  and  look 
ing  just  as  his  soap  looked. 

"How  much  is  this  a  bar,  Mr.  Dalrymple?"  he  in 
quired. 

"Sixteen  cents,"  replied  that  worthy. 

"If  I  could  sell  you  seven  boxes  for  sixty- two  dollars 
just  like  this  would  you  take  them?" 

"The  same  soap?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

Mr.  Dalrymple  calculated  a  moment. 

"Yes,  I  think  I  would,"  he  replied,  cautiously. 

"Would  you  pay  me  to-day?" 

"I'd  give  you  my  note  for  it.     Where  is  the  soap?" 

He  was  perplexed  and  somewhat  astonished  by  this 
unexpected  proposition  on  the  part  of  his  neighbor's  son. 
He  knew  Mr.  Cowperwood  well — and  Frank  also. 

"Will  you  take  it  if  I  bring  it  to  you  to-day?" 

"Yes,  I  will,"  he  replied.  "Are  you  going  into  the 
soap  business?" 

"No.  But  I  know  where  I  can  get  some  of  that 
soap  cheap." 

He  hurried  out  again  and  ran  to  his  father's  bank.  It 
was  after  banking  hours;  but  he  knew  how  to  get  in,  and 
he  knew  that  his  father  would  be  glad  to  see  him  make 
thirty  dollars.  He  only  wanted  to  borrow  the  money 
for  a  day. 

"What's  the  trouble,  Frank?"  asked  his  father,  look 
ing  up  from  his  desk  when  he  appeared,  breathless  and 
red-faced. 

"I  want  you  to  loan  me  thirty- two  dollars!    Will  you?" 

"Why,  yes,  I  might.  What  do  you  want  to  do  with 
it?" 

"I  want  to  buy  some  soap — seven  boxes  of  Castile  soap. 
I  know  where  I  can  get  it  and  sell  it.  Mr.  Dalrymple 
will  take  it.  He's  already  offered  me  sixty-two  for  it. 
I  can  get  it  for  thirty-two.  Will  you  let  me  have  the 
money?  I've  got  to  run  back  and  pay  the  auctioneer." 

32 


THE    FINANCIER 

His  father  smiled.  This  was  the  most  business-like 
attitude  he  had,  as  yet,  seen  his  son  manifest.  He  was 
so  keen,  so  alert  for  a  boy  of  thirteen. 

"Why,  Frank,"  he  said,  going  over  to  a  drawer  where 
some  bills  were,  "are  you  going  to  become  a  financier 
already?  You're  sure  you're  not  going  to  lose  on  this? 
You  know  what  you're  doing,  do  you?" 

"You  let  me  have  the  money,  father,  will  you?"  he 
pleaded.  "I'll  show  you  in  a  little  bit.  Just  let  me  have 
it." 

He  was  like  a  young  hound  on  the  scent  of  game.  His 
father  could  not  resist  his  appeal,  it  was  so  fascinating. 

"Why,  certainly,  Frank,"  he  replied.  "I'll  trust 
you."  And  he  counted  out  six  five-dollar  certificates  of 
the  Third  National's  own  issue  and  two  ones.  "There 
you  are." 

Frank  ran  out  of  the  building  with  a  briefly  spoken 
thanks.  He  returned  to  the  auction-room  as  fast  as  his 
legs  would  carry  him.  When  he  came  in,  sugar  was  being 
auctioned,  but  he  paid  no  attention  to  that.  He  made 
his  way  to  the  auctioneer's  clerk. 

"I  want  to  pay  for  that  soap,"  he  suggested. 

"Now?"  asked  the  boy. 

"Yes.     Will  you  give  me  a  receipt?" 

"Yep." 

"Do  you  deliver  this?" 

"No.  No  delivery.  You  have  to  take  it  away  in 
twenty-four  hours." 

That  difficulty  did  not  trouble  him.  He  had  some 
change. 

"All  right,"  he  said,  and  pocketed  his  paper  testimony 
of  purchase. 

The  auctioneer  watched  him  as  he  went  out.  In  half 
an  hour  he  was  back  with  a  drayman — an  idle  levee- 
wharf  hanger-on  who  was  waiting  for  a  job. 

Frank  had  bargained  with  him  to  deliver  the  soap  for 
sixty  cents.  In  still  another  half-hour  he  was  before  the 

33 


THE    FI  NANCI  ER 

door  of  the  astonished  Mr.  Dalrymple,  and  he  had  him 
come  out  and  look  at  the  boxes  before  attempting  to 
remove  them.  His  plan  was  to  have  them  carried  on  to 
his  own  home  if  the  operation  for  any  reason  failed 
to  go  through.  Though  it  was  his  first  great  venture, 
he  was  now  as  cool  as  a  cucumber. 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Dalrymple,  scratching  his  gray  head 
reflectively.  He  was  a  tall  man,  spare,  stoop-shouldered, 
rather  near-sighted,  and  wore  steel-rimmed  spectacles. 
"Yes,  that's  the  same  soap.  IT  take  it.  I'll  be  as  good 
as  my  word.  Where'd  you  get  it,  Frank?" 

"At  Bixom's  auction  up  here,"  the  latter  replied, 
frankly  and  blandly. 

It  did  not  strike  Mr.  Dalrymple  as  so  strange  that  this 
boy  should  attend  an  auction  in  his  own  neighborhood 
and  buy  soap  cheaper  than  he  could,  but  it  was  strange 
just  the  same.  He  had  the  drayman  bring  in  the  soap; 
and  after  some  formality — more  because  the  agent  in 
this  case  was  a  boy  than  anything  else — he  made  out  his 
note  at  thirty  days  and  gave  it  to  him. 

Frank  thanked  him  and  pocketed  the  note.  He  de 
cided  to  go  back  to  his  father's  bank  and  discount  it,  as 
he  had  seen  others  doing,  thereby  paying  his  father  back 
and  getting  his  own  profit  in  ready  money.  It  couldn't 
be  done  ordinarily  on  any  day  after  business  hours ;  but  his 
father  would  make  an  exception  in  his  case.  Most  note- 
brokers  kept  open  until  nine  o'clock  at  night  in  Third 
Street. 

He  hurried  back,  whistling;  and  his  father  glanced  up 
smiling  when  he  came  in. 

"Well,  Frank,  how'd  you  make  out?"  he  asked. 

"Here's  a  note  at  thirty  days,"  he  said,  producing  the 
paper  Dalrymple  had  give  him.  "Do  you  want  to  dis 
count  that  for  me?  You  can  take  your  thirty- two  out 
of  that." 

His  father  examined  it  closely.  "Sixty-two  dollars!" 
he  observed.  "Mr.  Dalrymple!  That's  good  paper! 

34 


THE    FINANCIER 

Yes,  I  can.  It  will  cost  you  ten  per  cent.,"  he  added, 
jestingly.  "Why  don't  you  just  hold  it,  though?  I'll 
let  you  have  the  thirty-two  dollars  until  the  end  of  the 
month." 

"Oh  no,"  said  his  son.  "You  discount  it  and  take 
your  money.  I  may  want  mine."  He  had  an  air  of 
business. 

His  father  smiled.  "All  right,"  he  said,  "I'll  fix  it 
to-morrow.  Tell  me  just  how  you  did  this."  And  his 
son  told  him. 

His  senior  listened  with  keen  interest.  This,  he  thought, 
was  a  remarkable  thing  for  a  boy  of  Frank's  age  to  have 
done — clearing  thirty  dollars  at  one  clip.  He  wanted 
to  go  home  and  tell  his  wife,  and  later  his  brother-in-law, 
Seneca  Davis,  when  he  should  see  him  again.  Frank  was 
a  remarkable  boy.  At  this  rate  he  would  certainly  make 
his  mark  some  day. 

At  seven  o'clock  that  night  his  wife  heard  about  it,  and 
in  due  time  Uncle  Seneca.  Frank  had  indulged  in  no 
other  exciting  deeds  until  that  time.  Uncle  Seneca  was 
pleased. 

"What  'd  I  tell  you,  Cowperwood?"  he  asked.  "He 
has  stuff  in  him,  that  youngster..  Look  out  for  him." 

Mrs.  Cowperwood  looked  at  her  boy  curiously  at  din 
ner.  Was  this  the  son  she  had  nursed  at  her  bosom  not 
so  very  long  before?  Surely  he  was  developing  rapidly. 
As  for  the  financier,  he  was  bland  and  calm,  radiant  but 
inscrutable,  and  without  any  desire  to  talk  or  boast. 

"Yes,  I  made  thirty  dollars,"  he  answered  his  father, 
when  the  latter  told  it  in  the  presence  of  his  mother;  but 
he  neither  blushed  nor  was  he  nervous  nor  manifested  ex 
citement  in  any  way. 

"Well,  Frank,  I  hope  you  can  do  that  often,"  said  his 
mother,  happily. 

"I  h9pe  so,  too,  ma,"  was  his  rather  non-committal 
reply. 


CHAPTER  IV 

FROM  the  very  first  young  Cowperwood  knew  how 
to  make  money.  He  was  an  adept  at  turning  all 
sorts  of  practical  tricks,  such  as  taking  subscriptions  for 
a  boys'  paper,  taking  the  agency  for  the  sale  of  a  new  kind 
of  ice-skate  from  an  ice-skate  company,  and  once  organiz 
ing  a  band  of  neighborhood  youths  into  a  union  for  the 
purpose  of  purchasing  their  summer  straw  hats  at  whole 
sale.  There  were  only  twelve  of  them,  but  he  secured 
the  wholesale  rate  for  that  number,  and  took  a  commission 
of  two  dollars  on  the  total  purchases.  There  was  nothing 
small  or  cheap  in  his  ideas.  He  was  not  doing  this  in  a 
picayune  way.  It  was  not  his  idea  that  he  could  get 
rich  by  saving.  From  the  first  he  had  the  notion  that 
liberal  spending  was  better,  and  that  somehow  he  would 
get  along.  He  did  this  more  to  be  doing  it  and  to  exer 
cise  his  talent  for  financiering.  No  one  ever  dreamed  of 
thinking  of  him  as  stingy.  He  was  not  wasteful;  but  he 
paid  naturally,  easily,  and  unconcernedly  as  he  went. 

The  soap  transaction,  coming  as  it  did  at  the  end  of 
his  thirteenth  year,  broadened  his  horizon  greatly.  It 
showed  him  clearly  what  trade  was,  and  how  transactions, 
even  on  a  small  scale,  could  be  made  exceedingly  profit 
able.  Auction  sales  were  not  to  be  discovered  every  day. 
His  home  grocer  was  only  open  to  one  such  transaction  in 
a  reasonable  period  of  time.  But  there  were  other  things 
which  could  be  done,  and  he  remembered,  to  his  great 
dissatisfaction,  that  all  the  staples  in  the  auction-room 
had  been  auctioned  off  at  such  bargain  prices.  If  he  had 
been  able  to  buy  them  all  and  dispose  of  then;  all  as 
readily  as  he  had  his  soap,  he  would  have  made  a  small 

36 


THE    FINANCIER 

fortune.  As  it  was,  he  realized  that  he  must  get  money 
first — considerable  money  in  a  small  way — before  he 
could  do  these  things.  It  set  his  mind  to  running  on 
money  chances,  and  thereafter  he  was  keenly  on  the 
alert  for  anything  which  might  show  a  quick,  clear,  easy 
profit.  A  quick,  clear,  easy  profit — that  was  the  thing 
he  wanted.  And  how  was  he  to  get  it? 

It  was  in  this  year,  or  a  little  earlier,  that  he  began  to 
take  a  keen  interest  in  girls.  He  had  from  the  first 
showed  a  shrewd  eye  for  the  beautiful;  and,  being  good- 
looking  and  magnetic  himself,  it  was  not  hard  for  him  to 
attract  the  sympathetic  interest  of  those  in  whom  he  was 
interested.  A  ten-year-old  girl,  Patience  Barlow,  who 
lived  a  number  of  doors  from  him  up  the  street,  was  the 
first  to  attract  his  attention  or  to  be  attracted  by  him. 
Black  hair  and  snapping  black  eyes  were  her  portion, 
with  pretty  pigtails  down  her  back,  and  dainty  feet  and 
ankles  to  match  a  dainty  figure.  She  was  a  Quakeress, 
the  daughter  of  Quaker  parents,  wearing  a  demure  little 
bonnet;  but  that  made  no  odds.  Her  disposition  was 
vivacious;  and  she  liked  this  self-reliant,  self-sufficient, 
straight-spoken  boy  who  lived  in  her  street.  He  had  such 
clear,  non-committal,  and  yet  dancing  eyes.  Their  first 
encounter  was  lost  in  a  maze  of  mere  passings  to  and 
fro — he  could  not  have  said  when;  but  one  day,  after  an 
exchange  of  glances  from  time  to  time,  he  said,  with  a 
smile  and  the  courage  that  was  innate  in  him  (she  was 
passing  him  in  the  same  direction  at  the  time) : 

"You  live  up  my  \vay,  don't  you?" 

"Yes,"  she  replied,  a  little  flustered — this  last  mani 
fested  in  a  nervous  swinging  of  her  school-book  bag — 
"I  live  at  number  one  forty-one." 

"I  know  the  house,"  he  said.  "I've  seen  you  go  in 
there.  You  go  to  the  same  school  my  sister  does,  don't 
you?  Aren't  you  Patience  Barlow?" 

He  had  heard  some  of  the  boys  speak  her  name. 

""Yes.     How  do  you  know?" 

37 


THE    FINANCIER 

"Oh,  I've  heard,"  he  smiled.  ''I've  seen  you.  Do 
you  like  licorice?" 

He  fished  in  his  coat  and  pulled  out  some  of  the  fresh 
wooden  sticks  that  were  then  sold. 

"Thank  you,"  she  said,  sweetly,  taking  one. 

"It  isn't  very  good.  I've  been  carrying  it  a  long  time. 
I  had  some  taffy  the  other  day." 

"Oh,  it's  all  right,"  she  replied,  chewing  the  end  of  hers. 

"Don't  you  know  my  sister,  Anna  Cowperwood?"  he 
recurred,  by  way  of  self-introduction.  "She  just  began 
school  last  year.  She's  in  a  lower  grade  than  you  are,  of 
course.  I  thought  maybe  you  might  have  seen  her." 

"I  think  I  know  who  she  is.  I've  seen  her  coming 
home  from  school." 

"I  live  right  over  there,"  he  confided,  pointing  to  his 
own  home  as  he  drew  near  to  it,  as  if  she  didn't  know. 
"I'll  see  you  around  here  now,  I  guess." 

"Do  you  know  Ruth  Merriam?"  she  asked,  when  he 
was  about  ready  to  turn  off  into  the  cobblestone  road 
to  reach  his  own  door. 

"No,  why?" 

"She's  giving  a  party  next  Tuesday,"  she  volunteered, 
seemingly  pointlessly,  but  with  great  point. 

"Where  does  she  live?" 

"There  in  twenty-eight." 

"I  wish  I  might  go,"  he  suggested,  sweetly,  as  he  swung 
away  from  her. 

"Maybe  she'll  ask  you,"  she  called  back,  growing  more 
courageous  as  the  distance  between  them  widened.  "I'll 
ask  her." 

"Thanks,"  he  smiled. 

And  she  began  to  run  gaily  onward. 

He  looked  after  her  with  a  smiling  face.  She  was  very 
pretty.  He  felt  a  keen  desire  to  kiss  her,  and  what  might 
transpire  at  Miss  Merriam' s  party  rose  vividly  before  his 
eyes. 

This  was  just  one  of  the  early  love  affairs,  or  puppy 

38 


THE    FINANCIER 

loves,  that  held  his  mind  from  time  to  time  in  the  mixture 
of  after  events.  Patience  Barlow  was  kissed  by  him  in 
secret  ways  many  and  many  a  time  before  he  found  an 
other  girl.  She  and  others  of  the  street,  which  was 
highly  respectable,  ran  out  to  play  in  the  snow  of  a 
winter's  night,  or  lingered  after  dusk  before  her  own  door 
when  the  days  grew  dark  early.  It  was  so  easy  to  catch 
and  kiss  her  then,  and  to  talk  to  her  foolishly  at  parties. 
Then  came  Dora  Fitler,  when  he  was  sixteen  years  old 
and  she  was  twelve;  and  Marjorie  Stafford,  when  he  was 
seventeen  and  she  was  fifteen.  Dora  Fitler  was  a  brunette, 
but  much  lighter-complexioned  than  Patience  Barlow; 
and  Marjorie  Stafford  was  as  fair  as  the  morning,  with 
bright-red  cheeks,  bluish-gray  eyes,  and  flaxen  hair,  and 
as  plump  as  a  partridge. 

Shall  the  story  of  Marjorie  be  told?  It  isn't  as  inno 
cent  as  the  others.  But,  no,  let  it  go.  There  will  be 
more  than  sufficient  without  it. 

It  was  at  seventeen  that,  having  endured  all  he  could 
of  the  so-called  educative  processes  of  the  time,  he  de 
cided  to  leave  school.  He  had  not  graduated.  He  had 
only  finished  the  third  year  in  high  school;  but  he  had 
had  enough.  Ever  since  his  thirteenth  year  his  mind  had 
been  on  finance,  and  that  only  in  the  form  in  which  he 
saw  it  manifested  in  Third  Street.  There  had  been  odd 
things  that  he  had  been  able  to  do  to  earn  a  little  money 
now  and  then.  His  Uncle  Seneca  had  allowed  him  to 
act  as  assistant  weigher  at  the  sugar-docks  in  Southwark, 
where  three-hundred-pound  bags  were  weighed  into  the 
government  bonded  warehouses  under  the  eyes  of  United 
States  inspectors.  In  certain  emergencies  he  was  called 
to  assist  his  father,  and  paid  for  it.  He  even  made  an 
arrangement  with  Mr.  Dalrymple  to  assist  him  on  Satur 
days;  but  his  father  became  cashier  of  his  bank  shortly 
after  his  son  had  reached  his  fifteenth  year,  and,  receiving 
an  income  of  four  thousand  dollars  a  year,  it  was  self- 
evident  that  Frank  assisting  a  grocer  on  Saturdays  was 

39 


THE    FINANCIER 

out  of  order.  All  that  was  left  after  that  was  weighing 
at  the  sugar-docks  and  helping  his  father,  which  he  did 
as  times  and  conditions  warranted. 

It  should  be  said  of  Cowperwood,  Jr.,  that  during  all 
these  years  he  was  exceedingly  democratic.  He  ap 
peared  at  times  a  little  bit  removed  and  superior  or  dis 
tant,  but  solely  because  he  was  thinking.  He  had  a 
cheerful,  hearty  way  of  greeting  people  which  was  in  the 
main  entirely  disconnected  from  what  he  thought  of 
them.  Even  at  this  early  age  he  was  a  keen  judge  of 
men,  and  he  saw  at  once  without  much  philosophic  or 
sociologic  knowledge  just  how  the  world  was  arranged. 
There  were  the  weak  and  the  strong,  physically  and 
mentally.  Some  men  were  destined  for  success  by  their 
temperament — that  he  could  see;  others  were  cut  out 
for  failure  by  the  same  token.  You  could  not  expect  a 
weak,  spindling,  half -constructed  figure  of  a  man  with 
no  brain  and  no  force  to  cut  a  figure  in  the  world,  and 
you  could  not  possibly  expect  a  great  dynamic  soul  like 
Steemberger  not  to  be  heard  of.  Men,  as  he  saw  them, 
were  starred  by  fortune  to  succeed  or  fail,  or  be  middle- 
class;  and  really  in  so  far  as  he  was  concerned  he  was 
neither  very  sorry  nor  very  glad.  Now  and  then — even 
at  this  age — -some  poor  fool  of  a  creature,  some  boy 
of  his  own  age  or  man  much  older,  who  "cut  up"  silly 
tricks,  or  did  aimless,  wandering  things,  moved  him  to 
scorn  or  pity;  but  if  he  began  with  scorn  he  always  came 
back  to  the  thought,  "Well,  they  cannot  help  it."  Why 
should  he  judge?  Time  and  chance  happened  to  all 
men.  Look  at  the  squid  he  had  seen.  Was  it  its  fault 
that  it  had  been  put  in  the  tank  with  the  lobster  with 
no  chance  ultimately  of  saving  its  life?  Some  great, 
curious  force  was  at  work  here  throwing  vast  masses  of 
people  into  life;  and  they  could  not  all  succeed.  Some 
had  to  fail — many.  Only  a  few  could  lead.  He  won 
dered  about  himself — whether  he  was  born  to  lead.  He 
had  strength,  health,  joy  in  life.  Would  he  make  good? 

40 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

A  great  desire  to  hurry,  and  yet  to  go  cautiously,  always 
followed  in  the  train  of  the  former  thought.  He  must 
succeed;  he  must  work;  he  mustn't  be  a  spindling  figure 
like  some  of  these  poor  things  about  him.  Never! 

It  was  when  he  turned  seventeen,  and  it  was  nearing 
the  end  of  his  current  school- year,  that  his  Uncle  Seneca, 
who  happened  to  be  back  in  Philadelphia  at  the  time, 
stouter  and  more  domineering  than  ever,  said  to  him  one 
day: 

"Now,  Frank,  if  you're  ready  for  it,  I  think  I  know 
where  there's  a  good  opening  for  you.  There  won't  be 
any  salary  in  it  for  the  first  year,  but  if  you  mind  your 
p's  and  q's,  they'll  probably  give  you  something  as  a  gift 
at  the  end  of  that  time.  Do  you  know  of  Henry  Water 
man  and  Company  down  in  Second  Street?" 

"I've  seen  their  place." 

"Well,  they  tell  me  they  might  make  a  place  for  you 
as  a  bookkeeper.  They're  brokers  in  a  way — grain  and 
commission  men.  You  say  you  want  to  get  in  that  line. 
When  school's  out  you  go  down  and  see  Mr.  Waterman — 
tell  him  I  sent  you,  and  he'll  make  a  place  for  you,  I  think. 
Let  me  know  how  you  come  out." 

Uncle  Seneca  was  married  now,  having,  because  of  his 
wealth,  attracted  the  attention  of  a  poor  but  ambitious 
Philadelphia  society  matron ;  and  because  of  this  the  gen 
eral  connections  of  the  Cowperwoods  were  considered 
much  better.  Henry  Cowperwood,  the  father,  was  plan 
ning  to  move  with  his  family  rather  far  out  on  North 
Front  Street,  which  commanded  at  that  time  a  beautiful 
view  of  the  river  and  was  witnessing  the  construction 
of  some  charming  dwellings.  His  four  thousand  dollars  a 
year  in  these  before-the-war  times  was  considerable.  He 
was  making  what  he  considered  judicious  and  conservative 
investments — some  little  money  in  a  railroad  company  in 
which  he  was  a  joint  organizer;  some  few  thousands  more 
in  a  real-estate  venture  in  the  western  part  of  the  city, 
in  which  direction  it  was  generally  thought  the  city 

41 


THE    FINANCIER 

would  eventually  grow.  Because  of  his  cautious,  con 
servative,  clock-like  conduct,  it  was  thought  he  might 
reasonably  expect  to  be  vice-president,  and  possibly 
president,  some  day,  of  his  bank.  He  knew  what  the 
financial  relations  of  the  city,  the  State,  and  the  government 
were,  what  the  trade  needs  were  in  various  directions. 
He  made  it  his  business  to  find  out,  by  every  possible 
method,  what  the  means,  resources,  and  intelligence  of 
every  business  house  and  bank  were;  what  people  said 
and  thought  of  them;  what  the  constituent  members  were 
doing.  He  was  keen  to  know,  as  was  his  duty,  what  the 
various  financial  ventures  of  the  day  were — the  large 
ones — what  chance  they  had  of  success.  People  were 
running  into  his  bank  constantly  asking  the  president  and 
the  vice-president  for  loans.  As  cashier  now,  the  man  who 
was  in  actual  touch  with  debits  and  credits — who  met  the 
depositors  largely  face  to  face,  and  who  was  expected  to 
know  instantly  the  condition  of  every  account  in  the 
bank — he  was  advised  with  constantly.  Now  and  then 
the  president  and  the  vice-president  were  kind  enough 
to  give  him  a  financial  tip — namely,  that  this  or  that 
stock,  for  this  or  that  sound  reason,  was  expected  to  ad 
vance.  He  was  never  expected  or  permitted,  theoreti 
cally,  to  gamble  on  margins;  but  if  hs  had  any  money 
to  invest  in  a  legitimate  way,  here  and  there  were  es 
timable  chances.  So  the  father,  now  nearing  the  age  of 
forty-five,  was  becoming  quite  a  factor  in  local  life;  and 
young  Cowperwood  had  considerable  reason  to  look  up 
to  him. 

Still  young  Cowperwood,  outside  of  a  strong  natural 
affection,  was  not  so  sure  that  his  father  was  in  any  way 
an  exceptional  man.  He  expected  to  be  much  further 
along  at  his  father's  age  than  the  latter  was  now.  This 
offer  of  Uncle  Seneca  to  get  him  in  with  Waterman  & 
Co.  was  a  god-send,  just  the  thing  to  start  him  off 
right;  for  he  was  heartily  sick  of  school,  and  this  would 
give  his  mind  its  natural  free  play.  He  reported  to  that 

42 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

organization  at  74  South  Second  one  day  in  June,  and 
was  cordially  received  by  Mr.  Henry  Waterman,  Sr. 
There  was,  as  he  soon  learned,  a  Henry  Waterman,  Jr., 
a  young  man  of  twenty-five;  and  a  George  Waterman,  a 
brother,  aged  fifty,  who  was  the  confidential  inside  man. 
Henry  Waterman,  Sr.,  a  man  of  fifty-five  years  of  age,  was 
the  general  head  of  the  organization,  inside  and  out — 
traveling  about  the  near-by  territory  to  see  customers 
when  that  was  necessary,  coming  into  final  counsel  in 
cases  where  his  brother  could  not  adjust  matters,  suggest 
ing  and  advising  new  ventures  which  his  associates  and 
hirelings  carried  out.  He  was,  to  look  at,  a  phlegmatic 
type  of  man — short,  stout,  wrinkled  about  the  eyes, 
rather  protuberant  as  to  stomach,  red-necked,  red-faced, 
the  least  bit  pop-eyed,  but  shrewd,  kindly,  good-natured, 
and  witty.  He  had,  because  of  his  naturally  common- 
sense  ideas  and  rather  pleasing  disposition,  built  up  a 
sound  and  successful  business  here.  Merchants,  farmers, 
and  warehouse  men  in  various  sections  of  eastern  Penn 
sylvania,  southern  New  Jersey,  Delaware,  and  Mary 
land  made  large  consignments  of  grain,  flour,  and  oc 
casionally  produce,  to  his  house,  which  handled  them  for 
the  Philadelphia  and  New  York  markets,  sometimes  re- 
shipping,  but  nearly  always  disposing  of  them  locally. 
From  long  years  of  dealing  with  local  interests,  wholesale 
and  retail  grocers,  flour-mills,  and  produce-dispensing 
organizations  generally,  the  Watermans  had  built  up  a 
steady  demand  which  came  to  them  naturally,  and  had 
to  be  supplied.  Their  daily  morning  orders  were  large, 
sometimes  so  large  in  certain  directions  that  they  could 
not  be  supplied.  On  the  other  hand,  their  daily  offer  of 
shipments  was  sometimes  out  of  proportion  to  what  they 
could  easily  dispose  of.  Flour  might  pour  in  when  there 
was  a  glut  of  flour.  It  was  quite  the  same  with  grain  and 
vegetables.  The  problem  of  preserving  the  more  perish 
able  fruits  and  vegetables  was  a  great  one.  Because  the 
icing  and  telegraph  industries  were  in  their  infancy,  it 

43 


THE    FINANCIER 

was  not  possible  to  handle  large  consignments  of  any 
perishable  fruit  or  vegetable.  Attempts  were  made  in 
this  direction  now  and  again,  but  without  much  success. 
The  cost  was  too  great.  Early  morning  or  late  night  calls 
were  made  on  other  houses  offering  to  take  over  or  trans 
fer,  at  a  loss  sometimes,  shipments  which,  if  their  own 
market  had  been  larger  or  smaller,  could  have  been  handled 
to  a  nicety.  In  the  main,  this  was  Mr.  Henry  Water 
man's  business;  but  he  was  getting  along  in  years,  and 
would  gladly  have  welcomed  the  hearty  co-operation  of 
his  son,  if  the  latter  had  been  entirely  suited  to  the 
business. 

He  was  not,  however.  The  latter  was  not  as  demo 
cratic,  as  quick-witted,  or  as  pleased  with  the  work  in 
hand  as  was  his  father.  To  a  certain  extent  the  busi 
ness  offended  him,  and  if  the  trade  had  been  event 
ually  left  to  his  care  it  would  have  rapidly  disappeared. 
His  father  saw  the  point,  was  grieved,  was  hoping  some 
young  man  would  eventuate  who  would  be  interested 
in  the  business,  who  would  handle  it  in  the  same  spirit 
in  which  it  had  been  handled,  and  who  would  not  crowd 
his  son  out — would,  in  other  words,  be  content  to  take 
an  interest  in  the  business  and  work  for  the  latter. 

Then  came  young  Cowperwood,  spoken  of  to  him  by 
Seneca  Davis.  He  looked  him  over  critically.  Yes,  this 
boy  might  do,  he  thought.  There  was  something  full, 
easy,  and  sufficient  about  him.  He  did  not  appear  to 
be  in  the  least  flustered  or  disturbed.  Mr.  Davis  had  sent 
him,  he  said.  He  knew  how  to  keep  books.  He  knew 
nothing  of  the  details  of  the  grain  and  commission  busi 
ness.  It  was  interesting  to  him.  He  would  like  to  try. 

The  boy's  eye  was  so  bright,  and  yet  so  inscrutable, 
Henry  Waterman  took  to  hiin  at  once.  "I  like  that  fel 
low,"  he  said  to  his  brother,  the  moment  Frank  had  gone, 
having  been  told  to  report  the  following  morning.  ' '  There's 
something  to  him.  He's  the  cleanest,  briskest,  most  alive 
thing  that's  walked  in  here  in  many  a  day." 

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THE    FINANCI  ER 

He  was  sitting  beside  his  battered  flat-top  desk  look 
ing  out  into  the  rout  of  Second  Street  through  the  open 
window,  which,  when  closed,  was  composed  of  many 
small  six-by-six  window-panes.  The  rear  of  the  store — 
indeed,  all  but  the  first  thirty  feet — was  quite  shadowy 
and  cool  because  of  the  lack  of  side  windows.  Little  of 
the  stock  of  the  company  was  kept  here,  because  most  of 
the  transfers  were  made  from  cars  in  Market  Street,  and 
from  boats  at  the  water-front  or  on  the  Schuylkill. 

"Yes,"  said  George,  a  much  leaner  and  slightly  taller 
man  with  dark,  blurry,  reflective  eyes  and  a  thin,  largely 
vanished  growth  of  black,  or  brownish-black,  hair,  which 
contrasted  strangely  with  the  egg-shaped  whiteness  of 
his  bald  head.  George  was  milder,  less  vigorous,  less 
sanguine  than  his  brother.  He  was  more  sicklied  o'er 
with  the  pale  cast  of  thought,  and  given  to  pulling  a  very 
neat,  small,  black  mustache.  "Yes,  I  like  him.  He's 
a  nice  young  man.  It's  a  wonder  his  father  don't  take 
him  in  his  bank  up  there." 

"Well,  he  may  not  be  able  to,"  said  his  brother.  "He's 
only  the  cashier  there." 

"That's  right." 

' '  We'll  give  that  fellow  a  trial.  I  bet  anything  he  makes 
good.  He's  a  likely-looking  youth." 

"This  fellow  we  have  is  nothing,"  said  George,  gloomily. 
' '  When  I  ask  him  to  look  up  a  credit  it  takes  him  a  month 
to  find  it.  He  won't  do.  He's  always  talking  about  an 
uncle  that  runs  a  dry-goods  store  in  New  York,  Harry 
tells  me." 

Harry  was  another  clerk  and  general  factotum,  and 
George  reported  this  as  though  it  were  in  some  way  a 
notable  offense. 

"Well,  let  him  go  and  work  for  his  uncle,"  observed 
Henry,  sterterously.  This  warm  June  weather  made 
him  breathe  heavily. 

He  got  up  and  walked  out  into  the  main  entrance  look 
ing  into  Second  Street.  The  cool,  cobble  pavements, 

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THE    FINANCIER 

shaded  by  the  wall  of  buildings  on  the  east — of  which 
his  was  a  part — from  the  eastern  sun,  the  noisy  trucks  and 
drays,  the  busy  crowds  hurrying  to  and  fro,  pleased  him. 
He  looked  at  the  buildings  over  the  way — all  three  and  four 
stories,  and  largely  of  gray  stone  and  crowded  with  life — 
and  thanked  his  stars  that  he  had  originally  located  in 
so  prosperous  a  neighborhood.  They  really  couldn't  be 
better  off.  Here  was  the  center  of  things — this  and  the 
street  above.  Here  property  had  advanced  tremendous 
ly  in  the  last  twenty  years.  He  had  a  score  of  clerks, 
bookkeepers,  runners,  and  general  helpers.  If  he  had 
only  bought  more  property  at  the  time  he  bought  this! 

"Eddie,  you  go  down  and  see  if  those  potatoes  have 
come  in  yet,"  he  said  to  a  clerk  who  happened  to  be 
hurrying  in  with  a  bill  of  lading. 

"Yes,  sir.     I'll  go  right  away." 

"  I  wish  that  Cowperwood  boy  would  turn  out  to  be  the 
kind  of  man  I  want,"  he  observed  to  himself,  meditatively. 
"He  could  save  me  a  lot  of  running  these  days." 

Curiously,  after  only  three  or  four  minutes  of  con 
versation  with  the  boy,  he  had  this  marked  sense  of 
efficiency.  Something  told  him  that  this  boy  would  do 
well — excellently  so. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  appearance  of  young  Cowperwood  at  this  time 
was,  to  say  the  least,  prepossessing  and  satisfactory. 
His  hair  was  rather  a  neutral  shade,  dark  brown,  as  crisp 
as  it  had  been  years  before,  and  thicker.  His  head  was 
large,  shapely,  notably  commercial  in  its  aspect,  and  fixed 
on  a  square  pair  of  shoulders  and  a  stocky  body.  Nature 
had  destined  him  to  be  about  five  feet  ten  inches  tall. 
His  eyes  already  had  the  look  that  subtle  years  of  thought 
bring,  but  they  were  more  inscrutable  than  ever.  Abso 
lutely  you  could  tell  nothing  by  his  eyes.  He  walked  with 
a  light,  confident,  springy  step.  Life  had  given  him  no 
severe  shocks  nor  rude  awakenings.  He  had  not  been 
compelled  to  complain  of  illness  or  pain  or  deprivation  of 
any  kind.  He  saw  people  richer  than  himself,  but  he 
hoped  to  be  rich.  His  family  was  respected,  his  father 
well  placed.  He  owed  no  man  anything.  Once  he  had 
let  a  small  note  of  his  become  overdue  at  the  bank;  but 
his  father  raised  such  a  row  that  he  never  forgot  it. 
''I  would  rather  crawl  on  my  hands  and  knees  than  let 
my  paper  go  to  protest,"  the  old  gentleman  observed; 
and  this  fixed  in  his  mind  what  scarcely  needed  to  be 
so  sharply  emphasized— the  significance  of  credit.  No 
paper  of  his  ever  went  to  protest  or  became  overdue  after 
that  through  any  negligence  of  his. 

Young  Cowperwood  turned  out  to  be  the  most  efficient 
clerk  that  the  house  of  Waterman  &  Co.  had  ever 
known.  They  put  him  on  the  books  at  first  as  assistant 
bookkeeper,  vice  Mr.  Thomas  Trixler,  dismissed,  and  ii? 
two  weeks  George  said:  "Why  don't  we  make  Cowper 
wood  head  bookkeeper?  He  knows  more  in  a  minute 

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THE    FINANCIER 

than  that  fellow  Sampson  will  ever  know.  I  saw  him 
(Sampson)  sitting  in  there  the  other  day  looking  at  his 
fingers  for  fully  fourteen  minutes — I  timed  him — as  though 
he  had  something  very  serious  on  his  mind.  What's  he 
got  so  serious  to  think  about?" 

"Make  the  transfer,  George,  but  don't  fuss  so.  You're 
the  darndest  man  to  sit  around  and  watch  people  I  ever 
saw.  You're  as  good  as  a  detective.  A  man's  got  a 
right  to  look  at  his  fingers.  He  might  have  been  trying 
to  solve  a  problem." 

"Oh,  nothing  of  the  sort!     I've  seen  him  do  it  before." 

"We'll  put  in  Cowperwood.  He  belongs  there.  He 
won't  be  a  bookkeeper  long,  though.  I  want  to  see  if 
he  can't  handle  some  of  these  transfers  for  me  after  a  bit. 
The  more  he  knows  about  the  books  the  better." 

The  books  of  Messrs.  Waterman  &  Co.,  fairly  com 
plicated  as  they  were,  were  child's  play  to  Frank.  He 
went  through  them  with  an  ease  and  rapidity  which  sur 
prised  his  erstwhile  superior,  Mr.  Sampson.  The  latter 
could  not  understand  why  Mr.  Cowperwood — this  young 
upstart — was  so  nonchalant  about  some  things,  so  ab 
stract  at  times,  and  why  he  could  so  easily  and  so  quickly 
run  over  long-standing  accounts  and  say,  "Yes,  yes," 
without  seeming  to  pay  attention.  He  couldn't  hope  to 
succeed  that  way.  He  would  surely  fail. 

"Why,  that  fellow,"  Mr.  Sampson  told  his  friend, 
William  Woodruff,  another  clerk  in  the  employ  of  Water 
man  &  Co.,  on  the  first  day  he  had  seen  Cowper 
wood  work,  "he's  too  brisk.  He's  going  to  make  a  bad 
break.  I  know  that  kind.  Wait  a  little  bit  until  we 
get  one  of  those  rush  credit  and  transfer  days." 

Somehow  the  bad  break  Mr.  Sampson  anticipated  did 
not  materialize.  Mr.  Cowperwood  went  through  the 
books  with  so  much  ease  and  speed  that  in  less  than 
a  week  he  knew  the  financial  condition  of  Messrs.  Water 
man  &  Co.  as  well  as  they  did — better,  to  a  dollar.  He 
knew  how  their  accounts  were  distributed;  from  what 

48 


THE    FINANCIER 

section  they  drew  the  most  business;  who  sent  poor 
produce  and  good — the  varying  prices  for  a  year  told  that. 
To  satisfy  himself  he  ran  back  over  certain  accounts  in 
the  ledger,  verifying  his  suspicions.  Bookkeeping  did 
not  interest  him  except  as  a  record,  a  demonstration  of 
a  firm's  life;  and  when  he  knew  that,  the  day-to-day  work 
of  entering  credits  and  debits,  making  out  bills,  0.  K.-ing 
vouchers,  transferring  accounts,  and  maintaining  the  bank 
balances,  was  drudgery.  He  knew  he  would  not  want 
to  do  this  long;  he  knew  that  he  would  not  do  it.  Some 
thing  else  would  happen;  but  he  saw  instantly  what  the 
grain  and  commission  business  was — every  detail  of  it. 
He  saw  where,  for  want  of  greater  activity  in  offering  the 
goods  consigned,  quicker  communication  with  shippers 
and  buyers,  a  better  working  agreement  with  surrounding 
commission  men,  this  house,  or,  rather,  its  customers,  for 
it  had  nothing,  endured  severe  losses.  A  man  would  ship 
a  tow-boat  or  a  car-load  of  fruit  or  vegetables  against 
a  supposedly  rising  or  stable  market;  but  if  ten  other 
.men  did  the  same  thing  at  the  same  time,  or  other  com 
mission  men  were  flooded  with  fruit  or  vegetables,  and 
there  was  no  way  of  disposing  of  them  within  a  reasonable 
time,  the  price  had  to  fall.  Every  day  was  bringing  its 
special  consignments.  It  instantly  occurred  to  him  that 
he  would  be  of  much  more  use  to  the  house  as  an  outside 
man  disposing  of  heavy  shipments,  but  he  hesitated  to 
say  anything  so  soon.  More  than  likely,  things  would  ad 
just  themselves  shortly. 

Nevertheless,  the  Watermans,  Henry  and  George,  were 
greatly  pleased  with  the  way  he  handled  their  accounts. 
There  was  a  sense  of  security  in  his  very  presence.  It  was 
only  a  few  days  before  Cowperwood  began  to  call  Brother 
George's  attention  to  the  condition  of  certain  accounts, 
making  suggestions  as  to  their  possible  liquidation  or 
discontinuance,  which  pleased  that  individual  greatly. 
He  was  doing  this  himself  constantly  to  his  brother 
Henry;  but  this  young  man  saw  further,  pointed  flaws  in 

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THE    FINANCIER 

their  methods  which  even  George  did  not  see,  and  all  in  a 
way  which  gave  no  offense,  but  seemed  rather  to  emanate 
from  the  general  wisdom  of  the  concern.  George  saw  a 
way  of  lightening  his  own  labors  through  the  intelligence 
of  this  youth,  while  at  the  same  time  developing  a  sense 
of  pleasant  companionship  with  him. 

Brother  Henry  was  for  trying  him  on  the  outside.  It 
was  not  always  possible  to  fill  the  orders  with  the  stock 
on  hand,  and  somebody  had  to  go  into  the  street,  ex 
change  or  buy  —  usually  he  did  this.  One  morning, 
when  way-bills  indicated  a  probable  glut  of  flour  and  a 
shortage  of  grain — Frank  saw  it  first — the  elder  Water 
man  called  him  into  his  office  and  said: 

"Prank,  I  wish  you  would  see  what  you  can  do  with 
this  condition  that  confronts  us  on  the  street.  By  to 
morrow  we're  going  to  be  overcrowded  with  flour.  We 
can't  be  paying  storage  charges,  and  our  orders  won't 
eat  it  up.  We're  short  on  grain.  Maybe  you  could  trade 
out  the  flour  to  some  of  those  brokers  and  get  me  enough 
grain  to  fill  these  orders." 

"I'd  like  to  try,"  said  his  employee. 

He  knew  from  his  books  where  the  various  commission- 
houses  were.  He  knew  what  the  local  merchants'  ex 
change,  and  the  various  commission-merchants  who  dealt 
in  these  things,  had  to  offer.  This  was  the  thing  he  liked 
to  do — adjust  a  trade  difficulty  of  this  nature.  It  was 
pleasant  to  be  out  in  the  air  again,  to  be  going  from  door 
to  door.  He  objected  to  desk  work  and  pen  work  and 
poring  over  books.  As  he  said  in  later  years,  his  brain 
was  his  office.  He  hurried  to  the  principal  commission- 
merchants,  learning  what  the  state  of  the  flour  market 
was,  and  offering  his  surplus  at  the  very  rate  he  would 
have  expected  to  get  for  it  if  there  had  been  no  pros 
pective  glut.  Did  they  want  to  buy  for  immediate  de 
livery  (forty-eight  hours  being  immediate)  six  hundred 
barrels  of  prime  flour?  He  would  offer  it  at  nine  dollars 
straight,  in  the  barrel.  They  did  not.  He  offered  it 


THE    FINANCIER 

in  fractions,  and  some  agreed  to  take  one  portion,  and 
some  another.  In  about  an  hour  he  was  all  secure  on 
this  save  one  lot  of  two  hundred  barrels,  which  he  decided 
to  offer  in  one  lump  to  a  famous  operator  with  which  his 
firm  did  no  business.  The  latter,  a  big  man  with  curly 
gray  hair,  a  gnarled  and  yet  pudgy  face,  and  little  eyes 
that  peeked  out  shrewdly  through  fat  eyelids,  looked  at 
Cowperwood  curiously  when  he  came  in.  His  hands  and 
feet  were  large — the  former  bristling,  as  to  their  backs, 
with  sandy  hair.  His  name  was  Genderman. 

"What's  your  name,  young  man?"  he  asked,  leaning 
back  in  his  four-legged  wooden  chair,  when  Frank  ap 
pealed  to  him. 

"Cowperwood." 

"So  you  work  for  Waterman  and  Company?  You 
want  to  make  a  record,  no  doubt.  That's  why  you 
came  to  me?" 

He  scarcely  knew  what  he  said.  He  was  inclined  to 
think  poorly  of  any  proposition  which  came  to  him  out 
side  his  regular  channels  of  exchange,  but  this  young 
agent's  appearance  pleased  him. 

Cowperwood  merely  smiled. 

"Well,  I'll  take  your  flour.     I  need  it.    Bill  it  to  me." 

Cowperwood  hurried  out.  He  went  direct  to  a  firm 
of  brokers  in  Walnut  Street,  with  whom  his  firm  dealt, 
and  had  them  bid  in  the  grain  he  needed  at  prevailing 
rates.  This,  George  had  told  him,  was  the  custom  of  the 
company.  Then  he  returned  to  Mr.  Waterman. 

"Well,"  said  the  latter,  when  he  reported,  "you  did 
that  quick.  Sold  old  Genderman  two  hundred  barrels 
direct,  did  you?  That's  doing  pretty  well.  He  isn't  on 
our  books,  is  he?" 

"No,   sir." 

"  I  thought  not.  Well,  if  you  can  do  that  sort  of  work 
on  the  street  you  won't  be  on  the  books  long." 

He  consulted  with  his  brother  George  as  to  the  rather 
remarkable  showing  the  boy  had  made. 


THE    FINANCIER 

"We  can  use  him  to  good  advantage  on  the  outside. 
Whenever  we're  short  or  glutted,  and  I'm  not  here,  you'd 
better  let  him  see  what  he  can  do  on  the  street.  He  can 
let  Sampson  do  that  work  under  him.  If  he  wants  any 
extra  help,  give  it  to  him." 

Thereafter,  in  the  course  of  time,  Frank  became  a 
familiar  figure  in  the  commission . district  and  on  'change 
(the  Produce  Exchange) ,  striking  balances  for  his  employer, 
picking  up  odd  lots  of  things  they  needed,  soliciting  new 
customers,  breaking  gluts  by  disposing  of  odd  lots  in 
unexpected  quarters.  The  Watermans  were  astonished 
at  his  facility  in  this  respect.  He  had  an  uncanny  faculty 
for  getting  appreciative  hearings,  making  friends,  being 
introduced  into  new  realms.  New  life  began  to  flow 
through  the  old  channels  of  the  Waterman  company. 
Their  customers  were  better  satisfied.  George  was  for 
sending  him  out  into  the  rural  districts  to  drum  up  trade, 
and  this  was  eventually  done.  There  were  certain  big 
shippers  in  near-by  places  whose  accounts  they  desired, 
and  they  fancied  Frank  could  get  them.  Henry  had  not 
troubled  to  do  this  soliciting  work  in  some  years. 

Near  Christmas-time  Henry  said  to  George:  "We'll 
have  to  make  Cowperwood  a  liberal  present.  He  hasn't 
any  salary.  How  would  five  hundred  dollars  do?" 

"That's  pretty  much,  seeing  the  way  times  are,  but  I 
guess  he's  worth  it.  He's  certainly  done  everything 
we've  expected,  and  more.  He's  cut  out  for  this  business. ' ' 

"What  does  he  say  about  it?  Do  you  ever  hear  him 
say  whether  he's  satisfied?" 

"Oh,  he  likes  it  pretty  much,  I  guess.  You  see  him  as 
much  as  I  do." 

"Well,  we'll  make  it  five  hundred.  That  fellow  wouldn't 
make  a  bad  partner  in  this  business  some  day.  He  has 
the  real  knack  for  it  when  he  comes  to  understand  it 
thoroughly.  You  see  that  he  gets  the  five  hundred 
dollars  with  a  word  from  both  of  us." 

So  the  night  before  Christmas,  as  Cowperwood  was 

52 


THE    FINANCIER 

looking  over  some  way-bills  and  certificates  of  consign 
ment  preparatory  to  leaving  all  in  order  for  the  interven 
ing  holiday,  George  Waterman  came  to  his  desk. 

"Hard  at  it,"  he  said,  standing  under  the  flaring  gas 
light  and  looking  at  his  brisk  employee  with  great  satis 
faction. 

It  was  early  night,  and  the  snow  was  making  a  speckled 
pattern  through  the  windows  in  front. 

"  Just  a  few  points  before  I  wind  up,"  smiled  the  latter. 

"My  brother  and  I  have  been  especially  pleased  with 
the  way  you  have  handled  the  work  here  during  the  past 
six  months.  We  wanted  to  make  some  acknowledgment, 
and  we  thought  about  five  hundred  dollars  would  be  right. 
Beginning  January  first  we'll  give  you  a  regular  salary  of 
twenty  dollars  a  week." 

"I'm  certainly  much  obliged  to  you,"  said  Frank.  "I 
didn't  expect  that  much.  It's  a  good  deal.  I've  learned 
considerable  here  that  I'm  glad  to  know." 

"Oh,  don't  mention  it.  We  know  you've  earned  it. 
You  can  stay  with  us  as  long  as  you  like.  We're  glad  to 
have  you  with  us." 

Cowperwood  smiled  his  hearty,  genial  smile.  He  was 
feeling  very  comfortable  under  the  evidence  of  approval. 
He  looked  bright  and  cheery  in  his  well-made  clothes  of 
English  tweed. 

He  closed  up  his  desk  after  a  time  and  went  home. 
On  the  way  he  speculated  as  to  the  nature  of  this  business. 
He  knew  he  wasn't  going  to  stay  there  so  long,  even  in 
spite  of  this  gift  and  promise  of  salary.  They  were  grate 
ful,  of  course ;  but  why  shouldn't  they  be  ?  He  was  efficient, 
he  knew  that;  under  him  things  transpired  rapidly  wher 
ever  he  went.  He  had  an  air  of  deliberation,  and  certi 
tude  combined  with  speed.  Order  came  out  of  chaos; 
difficulties  dwindled  away — there  weren't  any.  He  did 
business  quickly  and  surely,  looking  a  long  way  ahead 
and  forewarning  his  patrons  time  and  again  of  things  that 
needed  to  be  prepared  for,  in  order  that  everything  might 

53 


THE    FINANCIER 

go  smoothly.  It  never  occurred  to  him  that  he  belonged 
in  the  realm  of  clerkdom.  Those  people  were  the  kind 
of  beings  who  ought  to  work  for  him,  and  who  would. 
There  was  nothing  savage  in  his  attitude,  no  rage  against 
fate,  no  dark  fear  of  failure.  These  two  men  he  worked 
for  were  already  nothing  more  than  characters  in  his  eyes 
—their  business  significated  itself.  He  could  see  their 
weaknesses  and  their  shortcomings  as  a  much  older  man 
might  have  viewed  a  boy's. 

He  went  on  home,  and  at  the  house,  after  dinner,  and 
before  leaving  to  call  on  his  girl,  Marjorie  Stafford,  he 
told  his  father  of  the  change — of  the  gift  of  five  hundred 
and  the  promised  salary. 

"That's  splendid,"  said  the  older  man.  "You're 
doing  better  than  I  thought.  I  suppose  you'll  stay 
there." 

"No,  I  won't.     I  think  I'll  quit  sometime  next  year." 

"Why?" 

"Well,  it  isn't  exactly  what  I  want  to  do.  It's  inter 
esting  enough,  but  I'd  rather  try  my  hand  at  brokerage, 
I  think.  That  appeals  to  me." 

"Don't  you  think  you  are  doing  them  an  injustice  not 
to  tell  them?" 

"  Not  at  all.     They  need  me. " 

He  surveyed  himself  in  a  fine  mirror  that  had  been 
introduced  into  the  new  house,  straightening  his  tie  and 
adjusting  his  coat. 

"Have  you  told  your  mother?" 

"No.     I'm  going  to  do  it  now." 

He  went  out  into  the  dining-room,  where  his  mother 
was  still  straightening  things  around. 

"Mammy,"  he  said,  slipping  his  arms  around  her 
little  body,  "what  do  you  think?" 

"Well,  what?"  she  asked,  looking  affectionately  into 
his  eyes. 

"I  got  five  hundred  to-night,  and  I  get  twenty  a  week 
next  year.  What  do  you  want  for  Christmas?" 

54 


THE    FINANCIER 

"You  don't  say!  Isn't  that  nice!  Isn't  that  fine! 
They  must  like  you.  You're  getting  to  be  quite  a  man, 
aren't  you?" 

"What  do  you  want  for  Christmas?" 

"Nothing.  I  don't  want  anything.  I  have  my  chil 
dren." 

He  smiled.     "All  right.     Then  nothing  it  is." 

She  knew  he  would  buy  her  something. 

He  went  out,  chucking  his  sister  in  the  waist  at  the 
door,  and  saying  that  he'd  be  back  about  midnight. 
He  hurried  to  his  girl's  house,  in  a  poorer  neighbor 
hood,  because  he  had  promised  to  take  her  to  a 
show — his  fifteen-year-old  girl — and  kissed  her  in  the 
hall. 

"Anything  you  want  now  for  Christmas  this  year, 
Margy?"  he  asked,  confiding  to  her.  "I  got  five  hundred 
to-night." 

She  was  an  innocent  little  thing,  no  guile,  no  shrewd 
ness. 

"Oh,  you  needn't  get  me  anything." 

"Don't  I?"  he  asked,  squeezing  her  waist  and  kissing 
her  mouth. 

It  was  fine  to  be  getting  on  this  way  in  the  world  and 
having  such  a  good  time. 

"No,"  he  said  to  himself,  even  as  he  talked  to  her 
about  silly  things,  "he  would  not  stay  in  the  commission 
business.  There  was  no  real  money  in  it.  Pshaw!  it 
was  too  slow.  Dealing  in  flour,  grain,  and  occasionally 
odd  lots  of  staples,  even  though  done  in  large  quantities, 
was  too  much  like  petty  trade.  It  wasn't  mental  enough. 
Money  was  the  thing — plain  money,  discounted,  loaned, 
cornered,  represented  by  stocks  and  bonds — that  in 
terested  him.  He  could  never  get  men  like  Francis  J. 
Grund  and  Steemberger  off  his  mind.  With  money  you 
were  free  of  all  these  messy  dealings  and  with  people  who, 
after  all,  say  what  you  might,  weren't  as  clever  as  the 
bankers  and  the  brokers.  Those  were  the  people.  They 

55 


THE    FINANCIER 

sustained  these  latter;  they  made  it  possible,  through  the 
machinery  of  finance,  for  these  people  to  do  business. 
No,  George  and  Henry  Waterman  were  all  right;  but 
when  he  was  a  little  further  along,  just  a  little  bit  older, 
he  was  going  to  start  in  for  himself." 


CHAPTER  VI 

IN  the  mean  time  he  worked  on  with  the  Waterman 
company  until  the  following  October,  when,  having 
passed  his  eighteenth  year  by  nearly  six  months,  and  feel 
ing  sure  that  he  should  never  want  anything  to  do  with  the 
grain  and  commission  business  as  conducted  by  them,  he 
decided  to  sever  his  relations  with  them.  Great  was  the 
grief  of  Mr.  George  Waterman;  and  Mr.  Henry  Water 
man  was  actually  chagrined  as  well  as  disappointed  by 
this  defection. 

"Why,  I  thought,"  he  exclaimed,  vigorously,  when  in 
formed  by  Cowperwood,  "that  you  liked  the  business. 
Is  it  a  matter  of  salary?" 

"  No,  not  at  all,  Mr.  Waterman.  I  hope  you  won't  feel 
badly  about  this  thing.  I  have  been  thinking  it  all  over, 
and  I've  decided  that  I've  made  a  mistake  in  coming 
into  this  line  at  all.  I  don't  like  it  as  well  as  I  do  the 
straight-out  brokerage  business.  I  want  to  get  into  that. 
I  thought  so  a  little  while  after  I  came  in  here;  but  I 
didn't  want  to  say  anything  so  long  as  you  were  satisfied." 

"No  one  else  has  made  you  a  better  offer?" 

"I  wouldn't  take  one  in  this  line." 

"Well,  that  certainly  is  too  bad.  I'm  sorry.  I  don't 
want  to  urge  you  against  your  own  best  interests.  You 
know  what  you  are  doing.  But  George  and  I  had  about 
agreed  to  offer  you  an  interest  in  this  thing  after  a  bit. 
Now  you're  picking  up  and  leaving.  Why,  damn  it, 
man,  there's  good  money  in  this  business." 

"I  know  it,"  smiled  Cowperwood;  "but  I  don't  like 
it.  I  have  other  plans  in  view.  I'll  never  be  a  grain  and 
commission  man." 

3  57 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

"Going  in  with  your  father?" 

"No,  I'm  going  to  work  for  Tighe  and  Company." 

"Oh,  that's  the  lay,  eh?  Well,  they're  clever  people. 
I  know  Ed  Tighe." 

The  old  commission  man  was  greatly  depressed.  He 
had  fancied,  through  the  presence  of  Frank,  that  he  was 
fixed  in  ease  and  surety  for  the  rest  of  his  days.  Now  here 
was  that  prop  knocked  square  from  under  him.  And 
his  son  was  no  good.  It  was  too  bad. 

Brother  George  came  in  after  a  time  and  heard  the 
news.  He  was  much  more  excitable  than  his  brother, 
much  more  nervous. 

"Well,  now,  what  do  you  think  of  that?"  he  asked. 
"Here  we  were,  you  and  me,  just  getting  ready  to  give 
him  an  interest,  and  now  he  picks  up  and  walks  off.  I 
never  noticed  that  he  was  dissatisfied  before.  What  does 
he  say?" 

"He  hasn't  any  complaint,"  said  Henry.  "He  says 
he  don't  like  this  business.  I  don't  believe  him,  some 
times.  He  wants  to  get  in  the  money  game,  like  his 
father — wants  to  be  a  broker.  He's  going  over  with 
Tighe  and  Company." 

"Oh,  that's  it,"  said  Brother  George.  "Well,  now,  I 
wonder  who  we'll  get  to  take  his  place?" 

"You  can't  get  any  one  to  take  his  place,"  replied 
Henry,  sourly.  "He's  a  natural-born  financier.  He's 
an  organizer.  We  might  have  known  we  couldn't  expect 
to  hold  him.  He  won't  stay  long  with  Tighe.  That  fel 
low's  going  to  go  it  alone  pretty  soon.  Can't  you  see  it 
in  his  eye?  He  isn't  going  to  work  for  anybody.  Neither 
you  nor  I  nor  any  one  can  keep  him." 

He  switched  around  in  his  chair  and  looked  gloomily 
out  of  the  window.  "Now,"  he  said  to  himself,  "I  have 
got  to  get  up  and  hustle  around  the  street  myself.  If 
that  boy  of  mine  were  any  good —  His  thoughts  trailed 
off  into  oblivion. 

George  returned  to  the  little  coop  where  he  kept  his 

58 


THE    FINANCIER 

papers.  ' '  That  means  I  have  to  watch  all  these  accounts 
myself,"  he  groaned,  internally.  And  he  had  just  been 
coming  to  the  place  where  his  Saturdays  and  Sun 
days  and  some  other  half-holidays  were  a  delight  to 
him. 

The  firm  of  Tighe  &  Co.,  unlike  that  of  Waterman  & 
Co.,  was  located  in  a  handsome  green-gray  stone  building 
at  66  South  Third  Street,  in  what  was  then,  and  for  a 
number  of  years  afterward,  the  heart  of  the  financial  dis 
trict.  Great  institutions  of  national  and  international 
import  and  repute  were  near  at  hand — Drexel  &  Co., 
Edward  Clark  &  Co.,  the  Third  National  Bank,  the 
First  National  Bank,  the  Stock  Exchange,  and  similar 
institutions.  Almost  a  score  of  smaller  banks  and  broker 
age  firms  were  also  in  the  vicinity.  Edward  Tighe, 
the  head  and  brains  of  this  concern,  was  a  Boston 
Irishman,  the  son  of  an  emigrant  to  this  country  who 
had  flourished  and  done  well  in  that  conservative  city. 
Young  Tighe  had  come  to  Philadelphia  to  interest  him 
self  in  the  speculative  life  there,  because  he  considered 
there  was  a  good  opening  to  be  had  for  himself.  "Sure, 
it's  a  right  good  place  for  those  of  us  who  are  awake," 
he  told  his  friends,  with  a  slight  Irish  accent,  and  he  con 
sidered  himself  very  much  awake.  He  was  a  medium-tall 
man,  not  very  stout,  slightly  and  prematurely  gray,  and 
with  a  manner  which  was  as  lively  and  good-natured  as 
it  was  combative  and  self-reliant.  His  upper  lip  was  orna 
mented  by  a  short,  gray  mustache. 

''May  heaven  preserve  me,"  he  said,  not  long  after  he 
came  there,  "these  Pennsylvanians  never  pay  for  anything 
they  can  issue  bonds  for."  It  was  the  period  when 
Pennsylvania's  credit,  and  for  that  matter  Philadelphia's, 
was  so  bad  in  spite  of  its  great  wealth.  "If  there's  ever 
a  war  there'll  be  battalions  of  Pennsylvanians  marching 
around  offering  notes  for  their  meals.  If  I  could  just  live 
long  enough  I  could  get  rich  buy  in'  up  Pennsylvania  notes 
and  bonds.  I  think  they'll  pay  some  time;  but,  my  God, 

59 


THE    FINANCIER 

they're  mortal  slow!  I'll  be  dead  before  the  State  gov 
ernment  will  ever  catch  up  on  the  interest  they  owe  me 
now." 

It  was  true.  The  condition  of  the  finances  of  the 
State  and  city  were  most  reprehensible.  Both  State  and 
city  were  rich  enough;  but  there  were  so  many  schemes 
for  looting  the  treasury  in  both  instances  that  when  any 
new  work  had  to  be  undertaken  bonds  were  issued  to 
raise  the  money.  These  bonds,  or  warrants,  as  they  were 
called,  were  made  out  to  bear  six  per  cent,  interest;  but 
when  the  interest  fell  due,  instead  of  paying  it,  the  city 
or  State  treasurer,  as  the  case  might  be,  stamped  the 
same  with  the  date  of  presentation,  and  the  warrant  then 
bore  interest  for  not  only  its  original  face  value,  but  the 
amount  then  due  in  interest.  In  other  words,  it  was  being 
slowly  compounded.  But  this  did  not  help  the  man  who 
wanted  to  raise  money  very  much,  for  as  security  they 
could  not  be  hypothecated  for  more  than  seventy  per 
cent,  of  their  market  value,  and  they  were  not  selling  at 
par,  but  at  ninety.  A  man  might  buy  or  accept  them  in 
foreclosure,  but  he  had  a  long  wait.  Also,  in  the  final 
payment  of  most  of  them  favoritism  ruled,  for  it  was  only 
when  the  treasurer  knew  that  certain  warrants  were  in 
the  hands  of  "a  friend"  that  he  would  advertise  that 
such  and  such  warrants — those  particular  ones  that  he 
knew  about — would  be  paid. 

What  was  more,  the  money  system  of  the  United  States 
was  only  now  beginning  slowly  to  emerge  from  something 
approximating  chaos  to  something  approaching  order. 
The  United  States  Bank,  of  which  Nicholas  Biddle  was 
the  progenitor,  had  gone  completely  in  1841,  and  the 
United  States  Treasury  with  its  sub-treasury  system  had 
come  in  1846;  but  still  there  were  many,  many  wildcat 
banks,  and  they  were  sufficient  in  number  to  make  the 
average  exchange-counter  broker  a  walking  encyclopedia 
of  solvent  and  insolvent  institutions.  Still,  things  were 
slowly  improving,  for  the  telegraph  had  facilitated  stock- 

60 


THE    FINANCIER 

market  quotations,  not  only  between  New  York,  Boston, 
and  Philadelphia,  but  between  a  local  broker's  office  in 
Philadelphia  and  his  stock  exchange.  In  other  words, 
the  short  private  wire  had  been  introduced.  Communi 
cation  was  quicker  and  freer,  and  daily  grew  better.  Rail 
roads  had  been  built  to  the  South,  East,  North,  and  West. 
There  was  as  yet  no  stock- ticker  and  no  telephone,  and 
the  clearing-house  had  only  recently  been  thought  of 
in  New  York,  and  had  not  yet  been  introduced  in  Phila 
delphia.  Instead  of  a  clearing-house  service,  messengers 
ran  daily  between  banks  and  brokerage  firms,  balancing 
accounts  on  pass-books,  exchanging  bills,  and,  once  a 
week,  transferring  the  gold  coin,  which  was  the  only 
thing  that  could  be  accepted  for  balances  due,  seeing  that 
there  was  no  stable  national  currency.  "On  'change," 
when  the  gong  struck  announcing  the  close  of  the  day's 
business,  a  company  of  young  men,  known  as  "settle 
ment  clerks,"  after  a  system  borrowed  from  London, 
gathered  in  the  center  of  the  room  and  compared  or 
gathered  the  various  trades  of  the  day  in  a  ring,  thus 
eliminating  all  those  sales  and  resales  between  certain 
firms  which  naturally  canceled  each  other.  They  car 
ried  long  account-books,  and  called  out  the  transactions — 
"Delaware  and  Maryland  sold  to  Beaumont  and  Com 
pany,"  "Delaware  and  Maryland  sold  to  Tighe  and 
Company,"  and  so  on.  This  simplified  the  bookkeeping 
of  the  various  firms,  and  made  for  quicker  and  more 
stirring  commercial  transactions. 

Seats  "on  'change"  sold  for  two  thousand  dollars  each. 
The  members  of  the  latter  had  just  passed  rules  limiting 
the  trading  to  the  hours  lying  between  ten  and  three 
(before  this  they  had  been  any  time  between  morning 
and  midnight),  and  had  fixed  the  rates  at  which  brokers 
could  do  business,  in  the  face  of  cutthroat  schemes 
which  had  previously  held.  Severe  penalties  were  fixed 
for  those  who  failed  to  obey.  In  other  words,  things  were 
shaping  up  for  a  great  'change  business,  and  Mr.  Tighe, 

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THE    FINANCIER 

as  did  many  another  broker,  felt  that,  all  in  all,  he  had  a 
worth-while  future  before  him. 

His  manner  of  meeting  young  Cowperwood  was  ordi 
nary  enough.  The  latter  had  frequently  entered  Mr. 
Tighe's  office  in  his  capacity  as  outside  man  for  Water 
man  &  Co.  Their  relations  with  brokers  were  not  large; 
but  now  and  then  paper  came  into  their  hands  which  had 
to  be  discounted — the  banks,  their  particular  banks,  re 
fusing  to  take  it.  Cowperwood  had  presented  notes  from 
fairly  responsible  out-of-town  firms  which  Tighe  &  Co., 
who  also  had  a  note-brokerage  share  or  end  connected 
with  their  business,  had  discounted  for  him;  and  in  the 
process  they  had  come  to  exchange  friendly  greetings. 
From  the  first  Mr.  Tighe  took  a  keen  interest  in 
this  subtle  young  emissary  —  he  could  not  have  said 
why. 

"How's  business  with  you  people?"  he  would  ask, 
genially,  or,  "Find  that  you're  getting  many  I.  O.  U.'s 
these  days?" 

There  were  prospects  of  hard  times  soon,  because  of 
the  unsettled  condition  of  the  country,  the  over-inflation 
of  securities,  the  slavery  agitation,  and  so  forth.  Some 
how — he  could  not  have  told  you  why — this  young  man 
struck  him  as  some  one  who  was  worth  while  talking  to 
on  these  matters.  He  was  not  really  old  enough  to  know, 
and  yet  he  did  know. 

"Oh,  things  are  going  pretty  well  with  us;  thank  you, 
Mr.  Tighe,"  Cowperwood  would  answer. 

"I  tell  you,"  he  said  to  Cowperwood,  one  morning, 
"this  slavery  agitation,  if  it  doesn't  stop,  is  going  to  cause 
trouble." 

A  negro  slave  belonging  to  a  visitor  from  Cuba  had  just 
been  abducted  and  set  free,  because  the  laws  of  Penn 
sylvania  made  freedom  the  right  of  any  negro  brought 
into  the  State,  even  to  the  extent  of  uninterrupted  tran 
sit  to  another  portion  of  the  country,  and  there  was 
great  excitement  over  the  matter.  Several  persons  had 

62 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

been  arrested,  and  the  newspapers  were  discussing  it 
roundly. 

"I  don't  think  the  South  is  going  to  stand  for  this 
thing.  It's  making  trouble  in  our  business,  and  it  must 
be  doing  the  same  thing  for  others.  We'll  have  secession 
here,  sure  as  fate,  one  of  these  days."  He  talked  with 
the  vaguest  suggestion  of  a  brogue. 

"It's  coming,  I  think,"  said  Cowperwood,  quietly. 
"It  can't  be  healed,  in  my  judgment.  The  negro  isn't 
worth  all  this  excitement;  but  they'll  go  on  agitating  for 
him — emotional  people  always  do  this.  They  haven't 
anything  else  to  do.  It's  hurting  our  Southern  trade." 

"I  thought  so.     That's  what  the  people  tell  me." 

He  turned  to  a  new  customer  as  young  Cowperwood 
went  out  the  door;  but  again  the  boy  struck  him  as 
being  inexpressibly  sound  and  deep-thinking  financially. 
"If  that  young  fellow  wanted  a  place  I'd  give  it  to  him," 
he  thought. 

Finally,  one  day  he  said  to  him :  ' '  How  would  you  like 
to  try  your  hand  at  being  a  floor-man  for  me  in  'change? 
I  need  a  young  man  here.  One  of  my  clerks  is  leaving." 

"I'd  like  it,"  replied  Cowperwood,  smiling  and  looking 
intensely  gratified.  "I  had  thought  of  speaking  to  you 
myself  some  time." 

"Well,  if  you're  ready  and  can  make  the  'change,  the 
place  is  open.  Come  any  time  you  like." 

"I'll  have  to  give  a  reasonable  notice  at  the  other 
place,"  Cowperwood  said,  quietly.  "Would  you  mind 
waiting  a  week  or  two?" 

"Not  at  all.  It  isn't  as  important  as  that.  I  thought 
you  might  like  to  move  in  here,  and  we  need  a  man.  But 
I  can  wait.  Come  as  soon  as  you  can  straighten  things 
out.  I  don't  want  to  inconvenience  your  employers." 

It  was  after  that  that  Frank  had  his  talk  with  Water 
man,  and  two  weeks  later  he  took  his  departure. 


CHAPTER  VII 

IT  was  some  time  before  this  change  had  occurred 
that  Henry  Cowperwood,  Sr.,  having  lived  for  years 
in  the  comfortable  New  Market  Street  home,  had  removed 
to  a  still  better,  or,  rather,  larger  house  in  North  Front 
Street  facing  the  river,  and  had  furnished  it  in  even 
better  style  than  the  one  he  had  previously  occupied. 
The  rage  of  the  day  in  the  matter  of  furniture  was  for 
a  modified  Chippendale,  and  this  now,  in  regard  to 
some  room-sets,  was  introduced.  The  house  was  four 
instead  of  three  stories  tall,  and  stood  twenty-five  feet 
on  the  street-front,  without  a  yard. 

Here  now  the  family  began  to  entertain  in  a  small 
way,  and  there  came  to  see  them,  now  and  then,  repre 
sentatives  of  the  various  interests  that  Mr.  Henry  Cowper 
wood  had  encountered  in  his  upward  climb  to  the  position 
of  cashier.  It  was  not  a  very  distinguished  company  as 
yet,  seeing  that  he  was  still  a  cashier;  but  it  included  a 
number  of  people  who  were  about  as  successful  as  him 
self,  heads  of  small  businesses  who  traded  at  his  bank — 
dealers  in  dry-goods,  leather,  groceries  (wholesale),  and 
grain.  His  daughter,  Anna,  now  twelve  years  of  age,  was 
blessed  with  a  small  company  of  girl  friends  of  her  own 
age,  who  gathered  here  frequently;  and  Frank,  Joseph, 
and  Edward  had  come  to  have  intimates  of  their  own — 
school  chums,  girls,  commercial  acquaintances,  and  the 
like.  Now  and  then,  because  of  church  connections,  Mrs. 
Cowperwood  ventured  to  hold  an  afternoon  tea  or  recep 
tion,  and  gathered  around  her  the  wives  and  daughters 
of  those  whom  her  husband  knew,  and  toward  whom  he 
was  friendly.  Even  Cowperwood  attempted  the  gallant 


THE    FINANCIER 

in  so  far  as  to  stand  about  in  a  genially  foolish  way  and 
greet  those  whom  his  wife  had  invited.  It  was  a  very 
painful  procedure  to  him,  unless  he  could  maintain  his 
gravity  in  a  very  solemn  way  and  be  greeted  without 
being  required  to  say  much. 

Among  those  who  came  to  the  house  were  Mrs.  Seneca 
Davis,  for  an  occasional  brief  visit,  and  the  wife  of  one 
of  the  curates  of  Christ  Church,  which  the  Cowperwoods 
had  always  attended,  together  with  a  number  of  the 
wives  and  daughters  of  Mr.  Cowperwood's  business  con 
nections.  Singing  was  indulged  in  at  times,  a  little 
dancing  on  occasion;  and  there  was  considerably  more 
"company  to  dinner,"  in  an  informal  way,  than  had 
previously  been.  Frank  met  here  a  certain  Mrs.  Semple, 
the  wife  of  a  retail  shoe-dealer  who  was  by  way  of  be 
coming  a  manufacturer  of  importance,  wrho  interested 
him  greatly.  Her  husband  had  a  handsome  shoe  store 
in  Chestnut  Street,  near  Third,  and  was  planning  to 
open  a  second  one  farther  out  on  the  same  street. 

The  occasion  of  this  meeting  was  an  evening  call  on 
their  part,  Mr.  Semple  being  desirous  of  talking  with 
Henry  Cowperwood  concerning  a  new  transportation 
feature  which  was  then  entering  the  world — namely, 
street-cars.  A  tentative  line,  incorporated  by  the  North 
Pennsylvania  Railway  Company,  had  been  put  in  opera 
tion  on  a  mile  and  a  half  of  tracks  extending  from  Willow 
Street  along  Front  to  Germantown  Road,  and  thence  by 
various  streets  to  what  was  then  known  as  the  Cohock- 
sink  Depot;  and  it  was  thought  that  in  time  this  mode 
of  locomotion  might  drive  out  the  hundreds  and  hun 
dreds  of  omnibuses  which  now  crowded  and  made  im 
passable  the  down- town  streets.  Young  Cowperwood 
had  been  greatly  interested  from  the  start.  The  whole 
thought  of  railway  transportation  interested  him,  any 
way;  but  this  particular  phase  was  most  fascinating.  It 
was  already  creating  so  much  interest,  and  he,  with  others, 
had  gone  to  see  it.  A  strange  but  interesting  new  type 

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THE    FINANCIER 

of  car,  running  on  small  iron  car- wheels  and  being  four 
teen  feet  long,  seven  feet  wide,  and  nearly  the  same 
height,  was  giving  great  satisfaction  as  being  quieter  and 
easier-riding  than  omnibuses;  and  Alfred  Semple,  Mrs. 
Semple's  husband,  was  privately  considering  investing 
in  another  proposed  line  which,  if  it  could  secure  a  fran 
chise  from  the  legislature,  was  to  run  on  Fifth  and  Sixth 
streets. 

Mr.  Cowperwood,  Sr.,  was  greatly  interested  in  this 
discussion.  He  had  seen  the  line  in  question,  had  ridden 
on  it  time  and  time  again,  and  was  satisfied  that  this 
type  was  destined  to  suspend  the  omnibus  entirely.  In 
his  mind's  eye  he  saw  a  great  future  for  this  thing;  but 
he  did  not  see  as  yet  how  the  capital  was  to  be  raised 
for  it.  Frank  believed  that  Tighe  &  Co.  should  at 
tempt  to  become  the  selling  agents  of  this  new  stock  of 
the  Fifth  and  Sixth  Street  Company  in  case  they  suc 
ceeded  in  getting  a  franchise.  He  understood  that  a 
company  was  already  formed,  that  a  large  amount  of 
stock  was  to  be  issued  against  the  prospective  franchise 
on  its  being  secured,  and  that  these  shares  were  to  be 
sold  at  five  dollars,  as  against  an  ultimate  par  value  of 
one  hundred.  He  wished  he  had  sufficient  money  to  take 
a  large  block  of  them.  Meanwhile,  he  studied  Lillian 
Semple,  who  was  in  the  room  a  part  of  the  time,  and  who, 
with  Mrs.  Cowperwood,  occasionally  appeared  and  dis 
appeared. 

Just  what  it  was  about  Lillian  Semple  that  attracted 
him  at  this  age  it  would  be  hard  to  say,  for  she  was  really 
not  suited  to  him  emotionally,  intellectually,  or  other 
wise.  He  was  not  without  some  experience  with  women 
or  girls,  as  has  been  indicated,  and  still  held  a  tentative 
relationship  with  Marjorie  Stafford;  but  Mrs.  Semple, 
in  spite  of  the  fact  that  she  was  married  and  that  he  could 
have  no  legitimate  interest  in  her,  seemed  not  wiser  and 
saner,  but  more  worth  while.  Her  husband  was  not  so 
very  rich — say  forty  to  fifty  thousand  dollars — and  there 

66 


THE    FINANCIER 

was  no  certainty  that  he  was  worth  so  much.  Frank  heard 
his  father  say  that  Semple  had  had  some  bad  years  at 
one  time  and  another.  He  was  a  man  of  George  Water 
man's  type  or  style — medium  tall,  spare,  dark-eyed,  dark- 
haired,  with  a  sharp,  clean-cut,  albeit  pasty-white  face, 
and  a  dapper,  supple,  well-thought-out  and  pleasant 
manner.  Having  had  no  early  advantages,  he  was  a 
little  uncertain  of  himself,  and  did  not  appear  to  have 
much  to  say  at  any  time.  He  talked  with  Cowperwood 
and  his  son  of  trade,  slavery,  the  growth  of  Philadelphia 
— which  was  now  over  four  hundred  thousand — the  pros 
perity  of  their  church,  and  so  on. 

Mrs.  Semple  was  an  interesting  type  in  her  way — not 
as  young  as  Frank  Cowperwood,  for  he  was  but  nineteen, 
while  she  was  twenty-four;  but  still  young  enough  in  her 
thought  and  looks  to  appear  of  his  own  age.  She  was 
slightly  taller  than  he  was — though  he  was  now  nearly 
his  full  height  (five  feet  ten  and  one-half  inches) — and, 
despite  her  height,  shapely,  artistic  in  form  and  feature, 
and  with  a  certain  unconscious  placidity  of  soul,  which 
came  more  from  lack  of  understanding  than  from  force 
of  character.  Her  hair  was  the  color  of  a  dried  English 
walnut,  rich  and  plentiful,  and  her  complexion  waxen- 
cream  wax — with  lips  of  faint  pink,  and  eyes  that  varied 
from  gray  to  blue  and  from  gray  to  brown,  according  to 
the  light  in  which  you  saw  them.  Her  hands  were  thin 
and  shapely,  her  nose  straight,  her  face  artistically  nar 
row.  She  was  not  brilliant,  not  active,  but  rather  peace 
ful  and  statuesque  without  knowing  it.  Young  Cowper 
wood  looked  at  her  the  first  time  he  saw  her,  and,  without 
knowing  anything  about  her,  or  grasping  the  nature  of 
her  disposition,  was  carried  away  by  her  appearance. 
Somehow  this  placidity  matched  his  own.  Her  beauty 
measured  up  to  his  present  sense  of  the  artistic.  She  was 
lovely,  he  thought — gracious,  dignified.  If  he  could  have 
his  choice  of  a  wife,  this  was  the  kind  of  girl  he  would 
like  to  have.  She  looked  at  him  several  times  dreamily, 

67 


THE    FINANCIER 

not  thinking  much  of  anything,  and  smiled  in  a  con 
ventional,  social  way.  Frank  Cowperwood  thought  her 
smile  and  her  mouth  beautiful.  Thereafter  he  never  for 
got  Mrs.  Semple  for  a  moment.  She  seemed  to  him  to 
be  a  beautiful  woman,  and  he  wished  he  had  met  her 
before  she  married  Mr.  Semple. 

Cowperwood's  judgment  of  women  was  largely  from 
the  artistic  standpoint  from  the  beginning.  Powerfully 
passionate  in  a  material  way,  not  only  in  his  desire 
for  wealth,  prestige,  and  dominance,  but  in  his  desire 
for  women  and  beauty,  he  saw  them  from  the  artistic 
side  only.  The  homely  woman  meant  nothing  to  him. 
His  mother,  it  is  true,  was  no  longer  so  startlingly  at 
tractive;  but,  then,  she  was  his  mother.  His  sister, 
now  thirteen,  gave  promise  of  being  clever  if  not  phys 
ically  attractive,  and  for  that  reason  more  than  any 
thing  else  appealed  to  him.  She  could  retort,  even 
at  this  age,  with  ideas  and  observation  which  fixed 
themselves  in  his  mind.  But  women,  by  and  large, 
the  vast  mass,  merely  seemed  so  much  dead  wood  to 
him,  a  mass  which  he  could  not  understand.  He  heard 
family  discussions  of  this  and  that  sacrificial  soul  among 
women,  as  well  as  among  men — women  who  toiled  and 
slaved  for  their  husbands  or  children  or  both,  who  gave 
way  to  relatives  or  friends  in  crises  or  crucial  mo 
ments,  because  it  was  right  or  kind  to  do  so ;  but  some 
how  these  stories  did  not  appeal  to  him.  He  could  not 
have  told  you  why.  People  seemed  foolish,  or  at  the 
best  very  unfortunate  not  to  know  what  to  do  in  all  cir 
cumstances,  and  how  to  protect  themselves.  There  was 
also  great  talk  along  the  line  of  current  morality,  much 
praise  of  virtue  and  decency,  and  much  lifting  of  hands 
in  righteous  horror  at  people  who  broke  or  were  even 
rumored  to  have  broken  the  Seventh  Commandment. 
He  did  not  take  this  talk  seriously.  Already  he  had 
broken  it  secretly  many  times.  Other  young  men  did. 
He  was  a  little  sick  of  the  plain  women  of  the  streets  or 

68 


THE    FINANCIER 

the  bagnio.  There  were  too  many  coarse,  evil  features 
in  connection  with  them.  For  a  little  while  the  false 
tinsel-glitter  of  the  house  of  ill  repute  appealed  to  him, 
for  there  was  a  certain  force  and  luxury  to  it — rich,  as  a 
rule,  with  red-plush  furniture,  showy  red  hangings,  some 
coarse  but  showily  framed  pictures,  and,  above  all,  the 
strong-bodied  or  sensuously  lymphatic  women  who  dwelt 
there,  as  his  mother  phrased  it,  to  prey  on  men.  The 
strength  of  their  bodies,  the  lust  of  their  souls,  the  fact 
that  they  could,  with  a  show  of  affection  or  good-nature, 
receive  man  after  man,  astonished  and  later  disgusted 
him.  It  is  true  that  their  often  shapely  bodies,  bright 
belladonnaed  eyes,  and  scarlet  lips  appealed  to  him — he 
was  no  trembling  novice  quailing  at  every  thought  of  the 
moral  law;  but  after  a  while  the  beauty  and  luxury  of 
some  of  their  clothing,  the  manner  in  which  they  indulged 
themselves  in  cosmetics,  subtle  and  sensuous  perfumes, 
incense  and  other  aids  to  the  creation  of  the  lure  that 
stirs  the  passion  of  man,  cloyed  on  him.  They  were  not 
smart.  There  was  no  vivacity  of  thought  there.  All 
that  they  could  do  in  the  main,  he  fancied,  was  this  one 
thing.  He  pictured  to  himself  the  dreariness  of  the 
mornings  after,  the  stale  dregs  of  things  when  only  sleep 
and  the  thought  of  gain  could  aid  in  the  least ;  and  more 
than  once,  even  at  this  age,  he  shook  his  head.  These 
women  were  in  a  physical  hell  from  which  all  women 
fled — and  yet  were  they?  Other  women,  girls  and  worn 
mothers,  were  in  a  state  of  unrest  and  unhappiness  not 
so  much  better  mentally  than  this.  He  had  heard  his 
father  and  other  men  talk  of  employment  conditions  in 
certain  quarters  which  were  horrible.  As  for  that  matter, 
he  had  his  own  eyes  and  could  see.  Life  was  before  him. 
Philadelphia,  with  its  miles  of  red-brick  streets  and  side 
walks,  was  quite  as  much  an  open  book  to  him  as  to  any 
one  else — more  so,  for  he  was  more  plenteously  endowed 
with  that  subtle  thing  called  understanding.  He  could 
see  how  things  were  going.  Still,  the  inartistic  absence 

69 


THE    FINANCIER 

of  refinement  in  these  women  of  the  houses  stayed  him. 
He  wanted  contact  which  was  more  intimate,  subtle, 
individual,  personal. 

Well,  on  top  of  this  came  Mrs.  Semple — Lillian  Semple, 
who  was  nothing  to  him  save  an  ideal;  but  she  cleared 
up  certain  of  his  ideas  in  regard  to  women.  She  was  not 
forceful  and  vigorous  like  these  other  women — raw,  brutal 
contraveners  of  accepted  theories  and  notions;  but  for 
that  very  reason,  because  she  was  artistic  and  nothing 
more,  he  liked  her.  She  was  not  subtle,  quick,  or  daring; 
but  because  he  was  possessed  of  these  things  himself  in  a 
secret,  unsuggested  way,  he  could  afford  to  favor  the  beauty 
that  was  not  subtle  or  remarkably  efficient.  Just  quiet, 
refined  beauty  was  fascinating,  and  in  Mrs.  Semple  he 
thought  he  saw  this. 

The  home  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Semple  was  fortunately,  or, 
perhaps  it  would  be  better  to  say,  curiously,  located  not 
so  very  far  from  his  own,  on  North  Front  Street,  in  the 
neighborhood  of  what  is  now  No.  956.  It  was  a  pretty  two- 
story  brick  house,  and,  unlike  so  many  of  the  older  houses 
in  the  down-town  section,  was  set  in  a  yard.  It  had,  in 
summer,  quite  a  wealth  of  green  leaves  and  vines.  The 
little  side  porch  which  ornamented  its  south  wall  com 
manded  a  charming  view  of  the  river,  and  all  the  win 
dows  and  doors  were  topped  with  round  arches  and  set 
with  lunettes  of  small-paned  glass.  The  interior  of  the 
house  was  not  so  very  artistic.  It  was  about  what  the 
interior  of  a  house  owned  by  a  manufacturing  and 
a  retail  merchant  would  ordinarily  be.  There  was  no 
sense  of  artistic  harmony  to  the  furniture,  though  it  was 
new  and  good.  The  pictures  were — well,  simply  pictures. 
There  were  no  books  to  speak  of — the  Bible,  a  few  current 
novels,  some  of  the  more  significant  histories,  and  a  col 
lection  of  antiquated  odds  and  ends  in  the  way  of  books 
inherited  from  relatives.  The  china  was  nice — of  a  deli 
cate  pattern.  The  carpets  and  wall-paper  were  too  high  in 
key.  So  it  went.  Still,  the  personality  of  Lillian  Semple 

70 


THE    FINANCIER 

was  worth  something,  for  she  was  really  artistic  to  look 
at,  making  a  picture  wherever  she  stood  or  sat. 

There  were  no  children — a  dispensation  of  sex  condi 
tions  which  had  nothing  to  do  with  her,  for  she  longed  to 
have  them.  She  was  without  any  notable  experience  in 
social  life,  except  such  as  had  come  to  the  Wiggin  family, 
of  which  she  was  a  member — relatives  and  a  few  neigh 
borhood  friends  visiting.  Lillian  Wiggin — that  was  her 
maiden  name — had  two  brothers  and  one  sister,  all  liv 
ing  in  Philadelphia,  and  all  married  at  this  time.  They 
thought  she  had  done  very  well  in  her  marriage. 

It  could  not  be  said  that  she  had  wildly  loved  Mr. 
Semple  at  any  time.  Although  she  had  cheerfully  mar 
ried  him,  he  was  not  the  kind  of  man  who  would  arouse 
a  notable  passion  in  any  woman.  He  was  practical, 
methodic,  orderly.  His  shoe  store  was  a  model  of  clean 
liness,  and  what  one  might  term  pleasing  brightness. 
He  loved  to  talk,  when  he  talked  at  all,  of  shoe-manufac 
turing  companies,  the  price  of  leather,  the  development 
of  shoe  machinery,  the  development  of  lasts  and  styles. 
The  ready-made  shoe — machine-made  to  a  certain  extent 
• — was  just  coming  into  its  own  slowly,  and  outside  of 
these,  supplies  of  which  he  kept,  there  were  many  bench- 
making  shoemakers  whom  he  employed  himself,  satis 
fying  his  customers  with  personal  measurements,  and 
making  the  shoes  to  order. 

Mrs.  Semple  read  a  little — not  much.  She  had  a  habit 
of  sitting  and  apparently  brooding  reflectively  at  times, 
but  it  was  not  based  on  any  deep  thought.  She  had  this 
curious  beauty  of  body,  though,  that  made  her  somewhat 
like  a  figure  on  an  antique  vase  or  out  of  a  Greek  chorus. 
It  was  in  this  light,  unquestionably,  that  young  Cowper- 
wood  saw  her,  for  from  the  beginning  he  could  not  keep 
his  eyes  off  of  her.  He  would  study  her  secretly,  and  in 
a  way  she  was  aware  that  he  was  doing  so;  but  she  did 
not  attach  any  significance  to  it.  Thoroughly  con 
ventional,  satisfied  now  that  her  life  was  bound  perma- 


THE    FINANCIER 

nently  and  inexorably  with  that  of  Mr.  Semple,  she  had 
settled  down  to  a  staid  and  quiet  existence.  She  in 
terested  herself  in  charitable  and  church  work  to  a  cer 
tain  extent,  called  on  her  husband's  friends  and  many  of 
the  church  families  who  were  of  her  faith,  and  went  to 
market  and  to  the  shops  for  herself  and  her  husband 
with  methodic  regularity.  Frank  Cowperwood  ran  in  her 
mind  in  a  way,  at  times,  as  being  a  rising,  forceful,  inter 
esting  young  man.  She  thought  he  would  make  some 
woman  a  splendid  husband. 

But  Frank  Cowperwood  was  interested  in  her.  Un 
usual  though  it  was  in  him,  he  followed  her  up.  He  was 
not  without  some  little  experience  with  women,  a  cer 
tain  kind;  but  he  soon  found  that  the  coarse,  unrefined, 
abandoned  type  found  in  a  certain  quarter  did  not  appeal 
to  him.  He  early  learned  of  the  terrors  of  disease,  and, 
anyhow,  he  was  not  interested  that  way — in  that  off 
hand  manner.  He  wanted  personal  reaction  of  thought 
and  feelings,  a  certain  kinship  of  soul  or  understanding 
in  any  woman  he  drew  near  to,  and  if  he  could  not  have 
that  he  was  not  interested.  There  was  great  talk  in  his 
family,  always  had  been,  of  the  solidarity  of  marriage— in  a 
way  its  divine  authorization.  The  Bible  was  taken  literally. 
Some  people  fought  and  had  a  great  deal  of  trouble  in 
their  married  state;  but  that  was  nothing.  Separation 
was  never  to  be  thought  of.  It  was  their  duty  to  fight 
on.  Practically  he  paid  little  attention  to  these  opinions 
one  way  or  the  other,  for  the  simple  reason  that  they,  or 
rather  the  state  they  represented,  was  not  before  him  for 
solution.  If  he  had  been  in  an  unhappy  state — but  then 
it  scarcely  occurred  to  him  that  he  would  be. 

In  the  mean  time  he  worked  at  his  new  situation,  learn 
ing  many  things  which  he  had  not  previously  known. 
This  stock-exchange  world,  primitive  as  it  would  seem 
to-day,  was  most  fascinating  to  him.  The  room  that  he 
went  to  in  Third  Street  at  Dock,  where  the  brokers  or 
their  agents  and  clerks  gathered  one  hundred  and  fifty 

72 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

strong,  was  nothing  to  speak  of  artistically — a  square 
chamber  sixty  by  sixty,  reaching  from  the  second  floor 
to  the  roof  of  a  four-story  building ;  but  it  was  striking  to 
him.  The  windows  were  high  and  narrow;  a  large-faced 
clock  faced  the  west  entrance  of  the  room  where  you 
came  in  from  the  stairs;  a  collection  of  telegraph  instru 
ments,  with  their  accompanying  desks  and  chairs,  occu 
pied  the  northeast  corner.  On  the  floor,  in  the  early  days 
of  the  exchange,  were  rows  of  chairs  where  the  brokers 
sat  while  various  lots  of  stocks  were  offered  to  them. 
Later  in  the  history  of  the  exchange  the  chairs  were 
removed  and  at  different  points  posts  or  floor-signs 
indicating  where  certain  stocks  were  traded  in  were 
introduced.  Around  these  the  men  who  were  interested 
in  these  lines  of  securities  gathered  to  do  their  trading. 
From  a  hall  on  the  third  floor  a  door  gave  entrance  to 
a  visitors'  gallery,  small  and  poorly  furnished;  and  on 
the  west  wall,  where  no  windows  were — the  latter  were 
only  present  on  the  east  and  north  and  south' — a  large 
blackboard  carried  current  quotations  in  stocks  as  tele 
graphed  from  New  York  and  Boston.  A  wicket-like 
fence  in  the  center  of  the  room  surrounded  the  desk  and 
chair  of  the  official  recorder ;  and  a  very  small  gallery  open 
ing  from  the  third  floor  on  the  west  gave  place  for  the 
secretary  of  the  board,  when  he  had  any  special  announce 
ment  to  make.  There  was  a  room  off  the  southwest  cor 
ner,  where  reports  and  annual  compendiums  of  various 
kinds  were  kept  and  were  available  for  the  use  of  mem 
bers. 

Young  Cowperwood  wTould  not  have  been  admitted  at 
all,  as  either  a  broker  or  broker's  agent  or  assistant,  ex 
cept  that  Tighe,  feeling  that  he  needed  him  and  believ 
ing  that  he  would  be  very  useful,  bought  him  a  seat  on 
'change — holding  the  two  thousand  dollars  it  cost  as  a 
debt  over  Cowperwood — and  ostensibly  took  him  into 
partnership.  It  was  against  the  rules  of  the  exchange 
to  sham  a  partnership  in  this  way  in  order  to  put  a  man 

73 


THE    FINANCIER 

on  the  floor;  but  brokers  did  it.  These  men  who  were 
known  to  be  minor  partners  and  floor  assistants  were 
derisively  called  "eighth  chasers"  and  "two-dollar  bro 
kers,"  because  they  were  always  seeking  small  orders  and 
were  willing  to  buy  or  sell  for  anybody  on  their  com 
mission,  accounting,  of  course,  to  their  firms  for  their 
work.  Cowperwood  was  of  their  number,  and  he  was 
put  under  the  direction  of  Mr.  Arthur  Rivers,  Tighe  & 
Co.'s  regular  floor-man,  who  had  charge  of  all  their 
large  operations.  The  latter  was  an  exceedingly  forceful 
man  of  thirty-five,  well-dressed,  well-shaped,  with  a  hard, 
smooth,  evenly  chiseled  face  which  was  ornamented,  as 
to  the  upper  lip,  by  a  short,  black  mustache,  and,  as  to 
the  eyes,  by  fine,  black,  clearly  penciled  eyebrows.  His 
hair  came  to  an  odd  point  at  the  middle  of  his  forehead, 
where  he  divided  it,  and  his  chin  was  faintly  and  at 
tractively  cleft.  He  had  a  quiet,  conservative  manner, 
a  soft  voice,  and  both  in  and  out  of  this  brokerage  and 
trading  world  was  controlled  by  good  form.  The  im 
pression  that  young  Cowperwood  immediately  gained 
was  that  he  was  polite,  indifferent,  self-sufficient,  socially 
well  placed,  cold,  cool  in  action,  shrewd,  but  not  wide  in 
his  views  of  life.  He  knew  what  his  social  world  was  and 
what  it  was  worth  to  him;  he  knew  that  outside  of  it 
there  was  a  great  mess  of  life  which  he  did  not  care  very 
much  about;  he  knew  that  most  of  these  men  around 
him  were  exceedingly  clever,  some  of  them  as  well  placed 
as  himself,  but  that  a  very  large  number  of  them  were 
socially  impossible.  In  business,  outside  of  trades — and 
even  in  them,  except  under  great  stress — he  was  charming. 
He  had  an  even,  curiously  ingratiating  mouth,  which 
parted  pleasantly  and  affably  when  he  talked.  His  eyes 
spoke  his  intended  and  prearranged  courtesy.  His  hands 
rarely  aided  his  voice  or  expression,  but  when  they  did 
they  were  artistically  controlled — poised,  weighed,  with 
drawn.  He  had  not  much  to  say  to  young  Cowperwood 
at  first  beyond  explaining  the  fact  that  certain  stocks 

74 


THE    FINANCIER 

in  which  Tighe  &  Co.  were  interested  were  very  treacher 
ous,  and  that  certain  people  on  the  floor  were  suspicious  of 
him  and  his  assistants.  He  was  suspected  always  of  having 
a  beat  of  some  kind  in  view,  and  there  was  a  subtle 
conspiracy  on  among  a  few  traders  to  prevent  him  from 
obtaining  the  price  he  might  have  fixed  on  as  his  har 
vesting-point. 

Cowperwood  studied  Rivers  as  he  did  everything  else 
with  which  he  came  in  contact.  He  wondered  at  first 
why  Rivers  should  work  for  Tighe — he  appeared  almost  as 
able — but  afterward  learned  that  he  was  in  the  company. 
Tighe  was  the  organizer  and  general  hand-shaker,  Rivers 
the  floor  and  outside  man. 

This  company  of  men  with  whom  Cowperwood  was 
thrown  here  were  nondescript.  They  ranged  from 
"eighth  chasers"  and  "two-dollar"  assistants  like  him 
self — nineteen  to  twenty-five  years  of  age — to  men  of  thirty, 
forty,  fifty,  and  more.  Some  had  been  successful  manip 
ulators  for  years,  owning  their  own  "seats  on  'change" 
and  representing  only  themselves;  and  others  had  been 
successful  and  individual  operators,  but  were  now  failures 
and  hirelings.  Others  were  able  men  like  Arthur  Rivers — 
secret  partners  or  the  private  representatives  of  rich  men 
who  owned  or  controlled  big  industries,  and  who,  because 
of  their  loans  at  banks,  secured  by  certain  kinds  of  stocks 
given  as  collateral,  were  anxious  that  the  market  price  of 
the  stocks  should  be  watched  and  sustained  in  order  that 
their  loans  might  not  be  unexpectedly  called.  There  were 
men  who  represented  half-baked,  fly-by-night,  poorly  or 
ganized  brokerage  concerns  dealing  with  country  customers 
and  small  adventurers  who  had  a  hard  time  to  meet  their 
margins  and  were  always  leaving  to  their  brokers  the 
responsibility  for  small  but  disastrous  trades.  It  was 
useless,  as  Frank  soon  found,  to  try  to  figure  out  exactly 
why  stocks  rose  and  fell.  Some  general  reasons  there  were, 
of  course,  as  he  was  told  by  Tighe,  who  liked  him  much 
from  the  first,  but  they  could  not  always  be  depended  on. 

75 


THE    FINANCIER 

"Sure,  anything  can  make  or  break  a  market" — Tighe's 
delicate  brogue  will  have  to  be  imagined — ' '  from  the  fail 
ure  of  a  bank  to  the  rumor  that  your  second  cousin's 
grandmother  has  a  cold.  It's  a  most  unusual  world, 
Cowperwood.  No  man  can  explain  it.  I've  seen  breaks 
in  stocks  that  you  could  never  explain  at  all — no  one 
could.  It  wouldn't  be  possible  to  find  out  why  they 
broke.  I've  seen  rises  the  same  way.  My  God,  the 
rumors  of  the  stock  exchange!  They  beat  the  devil. 
If  they're  going  down  in  ordinary  times  some  one  is  un 
loading,  or  they're  rigging  the  market.  If  they're  going 
up — God  knows  times  must  be  good  or  somebody  must 
be  buying — that's  sure.  Beyond  that — well,  ask  Rivers 
to  show  you  the  ropes.  Don't  you  ever  lose  for  me, 
though.  That's  the  cardinal  sin  in  this  office. " 

He  grinned  maliciously,  even  if  kindly,  at  that. 

Cowperwood  understood — none  better.  This  subtle 
world  appealed  to  him.  It  answered  to  his  temperament. 
He  used  to  stand  about  when  he  had  the  time  to  spare, 
and  there  were  many  times  when  he  could  do  nothing  at 
all,  studying  out  this  curious  crowd  on  the  'change  floor. 
He  liked  to  watch  them  drift  in  in  the  morning :  first  a  few 
brisk  clerks  like  himself  (the  janitor  was  always  there  ahead 
of  everybody  else  to  open  up),  and  after  that  this  broker 
and  that  trader,  the  telegraph-operator,  the  messenger- 
boys  calling  names,  an  old  woman  who  stood  at  the  foot 
of  the  'change  stairs  in  a  green-and-gray  shawl  selling 
apples,  and  so  on.  In  spring  or  warm  weather  some  of 
the  men,  particularly  the  telegraph-operators  and  floor- 
men,  took  off  their  street  coats  and  put  on  linen  floor 
coats.  Some  lounged  and  studied  the  early  quotations 
on  the  blackboard,  or  those  that  were  left  from  the  day 
before.  Others  stood  in  groups  of  twos  and  threes  and 
conversed  in  low  tones.  There  was  considerable  tom 
foolery  and  idle  good-nature  displayed,  as  when  a  man 
would  take  another's  hat  and  stick  a  feather  in  it,  or  slap 
a  fellow-broker  on  the  back  with  a  "Hi!  You  old  aboli- 

76 


THE    FINANCIER 

tionist!  Who  you  buyin'  all  that  P.  and  A.  for?"  There 
were  rumors,  rumors,  rumors  of  great  railway  and  street 
car  undertakings,  land  developments,  government  re 
vision  of  the  tariff,  war  between  France  and  Turkey, 
famine  in  Russia  or  Ireland,  and  so  on.  The  first  Atlan 
tic  cable  had  not  been  laid  as  yet,  and  news  of  any  kind 
from  abroad  was  slow  and  meager.  Still  there  were  great 
financial  figures  in  the  field,  men  who,  like  Cyrus  Field, 
or  William  H.  Vanderbilt,  or  F.  X.  Drexel,  were  doing 
marvelous  things,  and  their  activities  and  the  rumors 
concerning  them  counted  for  much.  There  was  one  old 
broker,  Hosea  Whitney,  a  little  insect  of  a  man  with  a 
face  like  Punch,  of  ''Punch  and  Judy"  fame,  who  was 
convinced  that  the  current  slavery  agitation  was  going 
to  depress  all  stock  and  destroy  values.  Each  fresh  kid 
napping  outrage,  each  "underground"  uproar  which 
followed  the  escape  of  some  slave,  caused  the  old  man 
to  trot  about,  his  hands  crossed  behind  his  back,  croak 
ing  like  a  raven.  He  did  not  come  to  know  Cowperwood 
at  once,  but  Frank  used  to  see  him  talking  to  Arthur 
Rivers  and  others. 

<(I  tell  you,  Arthur,"  he  would  exclaim,  screwing  up 
one  eye  most  ominously,  "if  this  stealing  of  niggers  don't 
stop,  you  and  I  are  going  to  find  it  hard  to  make  a  living 
after  a  while.  It's  going  to  cause  trouble!  I  can  feel  it! 
Something's  going  to  happen  to  this  country.  Things 
aren't  right." 

Amusedly  Rivers  would  survey  him,  keeping  all  the 
while  a  considerate  manner. 

"I  wouldn't  worry,  Hosea;  we'll  probably  be  all  right. 
You're  naturally  bearish  in  your  mood." 

"Bearish  be  damned!  I'm  not  any  more  bearish  than 
you  are.  Facts  are  facts.  Look  at  that  case  again  this 
morning!  What  d'ye  think  o'  that?" 

"Well,  it's  pretty  bad;  but  we'll  never  have  any  trouble 
about  that.  The  country  is  growing  too  fast." 

"Country  be  damned!  I  tell  you  we're  going  to  have 

77 


THE    FINANCIER 

trouble.  These  abolitionists  are  going  to  be  sorry  some 
time.  I'm  not  down  on  the  nigger,  but  the  business  of 
the  country  can't  stand  this  sort  of  thing.  It's  stirring 
up  sectional  feeling." 

Rivers,  or  whoever  else  he  talked  to,  would  rub  their 
chins,  stare  up  at  the  clock  to  see  if  it  was  time  for  the 
gong  to  strike,  or  look  about  for  an  excuse  to  move.  As 
a  rule  Rivers  would  make  no  comment  concerning  Hosea 
to  any  one  else:  but  some  of  the  less  considerate  would 
exclaim:  "Here  comes  old  Hosea  again!"  or  "There  he 
goes.  It's  those  abolitionists  again.  George,  but  they 
do  stir  up  poor  old  Uncle  Hosea's  blood!" 

"Sixty-five  and  one-eighth  for  any  part  of  three  hun 
dred  P.  and  A.,"  Uncle  Hosea  would  call,  scuttling  crab- 
like  to  his  favorite  post  as  the  gong  struck  and  trading 
began.  He  was  not  at  all  weak  physically,  and  quite 
able  to  take  care  of  himself  in  even  the  severest  crushes. 
He  had  the  broker's  habit  of  holding  up  as  many  fingers 
of  his  brown,  skinny  hand  as  he  had  lots  to  buy  or  sell. 
He  was  not  a  large  trader;  but  he  owned  his  own  seat 
and  made  a  good  living. 

There  was  another  curious  character,  Andrew  Pohlhemus, 
a  German  of  the  second  or  third  generation,  who  had  a 
face  which  somebody  said  was  like  that  of  a  "wooden 
Indian  which  had  been  hit  by  a  hatchet."  His  nose  was 
broken,  which  gave  his  face  a  concave  angle,  and  his  form 
was  like  that  of  a  pouter-pigeon. 

Every  morning  he  would,  on  arrival,  take  out  his  big 
silver  watch  and  compare  it  with  the  'change  clock, 
which  he  seemed  to  think  was  in  danger  of  going  astray. 
In  summer  he  wore  a  prodigious  straw  hat  which  was 
ridiculous,  and  in  winter  a  furry  beaver  cap  which  made 
him  still  more  marvelous.  His  face  was  a  healthy  red, 
and  his  hands  and  feet  were  fat. 

"Pohlhemus  regulating  the  universe,"  somebody  called 
one  day,  striking  an  attitude  and  throwing  out  his  chest. 

"Ach,  du  lieber  Pohlhemus,"  some  one  else  called. 

78 


THE    FINANCIER 

The  brokers,  in  idle  moments,  liked  to  pin  pieces  of 
paper  or  ribbon,  or  anything  else  voluminous  they  could 
find,  to  the  ends  of  his  coat-tails  and  see  him  stroll  un 
wittingly  about. 

"You  make  me  sick,"  he  would  call,  if  he  caught  any 
one  at  this;  but,  as  a  rule,  he  did  not,  and  when  in 
formed  would  grunt,  "Oh  yes,  more  damn  foolishness." 

He  was  not  disliked;  and  he  never  lost  or  won  very 
much,  for  he  never  gambled  very  freely. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

IT  was  while  Cowperwood  was  working  under  Rivers 
for  Tighe  that  he  learned  all  those  subtleties  of  the 
stock-market  system  which  afterward  stood  him  in  such 
good  stead.  By  degrees  he  picked  up  all  the  techni 
calities  of  the  situation,  and  all  the  terminology,  though 
the  latter  was  not  more  than  an  hour's  lesson  the  first 
day,  given  him  succinctly  by  Rivers.  A  "bull,"  he 
learned,  was  one  who  bought  in  anticipation  of  a  higher 
price  to  come;  and  if  he  was  "loaded  up"  with  a  "line" 
of  stocks  he  was  said  to  be  "long."  He  sold  to  "realize" 
his  profit,  or  if  his  margins  were  exhausted  he  was  "wiped 
out."  A  "bear"  was  one  who  sold  stocks  which  most 
frequently  he  did  not  have,  in  anticipation  of  a  lower 
price,  at  which  he  could  buy  and  satisfy  his  previous  sales. 
He  was  "short"  when  he  had  sold  what  he  did  not  own, 
and  he  "covered"  when  he  bought  to  satisfy  his  sales  and 
to  realize  his  profits  or  to  protect  himself  against  further 
loss  in  case  prices  advanced  instead  of  declining.  He  was 
caught  in  a  "corner"  when  he  found  that  he  could  not 
buy  in  order  to  make  good  the  stock  he  had  borrowed  for 
delivery  and  the  return  of  which  had  been  demanded. 
He  was  then  obliged  to  settle  practically  at  a  price  fixed 
by  those  to  whom  he  and  other  "shorts"  had  sold. 

Tighe,  Cowperwood  learned  from  Rivers,  carried  a  cer 
tain  line  of  stocks  for  certain  people  for  whom  he  bought 
and  sold.  The  latter  did  not  take  this  boy  into  his  con 
fidence  very  much  at  first;  but  he  gave  him  some  inter 
esting  bits  of  information.  Certain  houses  were  handling 
certain  stocks,  certain  others  were  buying  certain  others. 
He  was  to  watch  their  men.  The  general  run  of  things 

80 


THE    FINANCIER 

outside  of  these  particular  specialties  which  he  was  han 
dling  need  not  trouble  him. 

"Watch  what  they're  doing.  Take  their  offers.  I  want 
all  I  can  get  up  to  five  thousand  of  A.  and  C.  If  you 
hear  of  any  Morse  Telegraph  offered  under  sixty  take 
it — all  you  can  get.  Buy  me  sixty  Fifth  and  Sixth 
Street.  I  want  a  hundred  New  York  and  Harlem  at 
eighty — no  more,  do  you  hear?" 

"Yes,  I  hear,"  said  Frank,  submissively. 

Cowperwood  was  a  fine,  live  floor  operator,  and  soon 
convinced  Rivers  that  he  had  an  ideal  man  as  an  as 
sistant. 

After  the  first  few  days  spent  in  studying  this  noble 
community  of  souls  Frank  soon  learned  of  what  cheap,  mor 
tal  clay  they  were,  and  at  the  same  time  what  a  shrewd, 
hungry  lot  of  fish,  and  what  a  vast  subtle  world  they 
represented.  You  could  never  tell  what  any  particular 
individual  was  "up  to."  You  could  never  guess  what 
stock  was  being  "nursed"  or  "washed"  or  being  handled 
by  a  specialist.  Rumor  was  the  breath  of  life  of  this 
chamber,  and  suspicion  its  blood.  He  smiled  at  first  at 
the  air  of  great  secrecy  and  wisdom  on  the  part  of  the 
younger  men.  They  were  so  heartily  and  foolishly  sus 
picious.  The  older  men,  in  the  large  majority  of  cases, 
were  inscrutable.  They  pretended  great  innocence,  un 
certainty,  indifference.  They  were  like  certain  fish  after  a 
certain  kind  of  bait,  however.  Snap !  and  the  opportunity 
was  gone.  Somebody  else  had  picked  up  what  you 
wanted.  All  had  their  little  note-books.  All  had  their 
peculiar  squint  of  eye  or  position  or  motion  which  meant 
"  Done !  I  take  you!"  Sometimes  they  seemed  scarcely  to 
confirm  their  sales  and  purchases — they  knew  each  other 
so  well — but  they  did.  If  the  market  was  for  any  reason 
active,  the  brokers  and  their  agents  were  apt  to  be  more 
numerous  than  if  it  were  dull  and  the  trading  indifferent. 
A  gong  sounded  the  call  to  trading  at  10  A.M.  ;  and  if  there 
was  a  noticeable  rise  or  decline  in  a  stock  or  a  group  of 

81 


THE    FINANCIER 

stocks,  you  were  apt  to  witness  a  quite  spirited  scene. 
Fifty  to  a  hundred  men  would  shout,  gesticulate,  shove 
here  and  there  in  an  apparently  aimless  manner,  endeavor 
ing  to  take  advantage  of  the  stock  offered  or  called  for. 

"Five-eighths  for  five  hundred  P.  and  W.,"  some  one 
would  call — Rivers  or  Cowperwood,  or  any  other  broker. 

"Five  hundred  at  three-fourths,"  would  come  the  reply 
from  some  one  else,  who  either  had  an  order  to  sell  the 
stock  at  that  price  or  who  was  willing  to  sell  it  short, 
hoping  to  pick  up  enough  of  the  stock  at  a  lower  figure 
later  to  fill  his  order  and  make  a  little  something  besides. 
If  the  supply  of  stock  at  that  figure  was  large  Rivers  would 
probably  continue  to  bid  five-eighths.  If,  on  the  other 
hand,  he  noticed  an  increasing  demand,  he  would  prob 
ably  pay  three-fourths  for  it.  If  the  professional  traders 
believed  Rivers  had  a  large  buying  order,  they  would 
probably  try  to  buy  the  stock  before  he  could  at  three- 
fourths,  believing  they  could  sell  it  out  to  him  at  a  slightly 
higher  price.  The  professional  traders  were,  of  course, 
keen  students  of  psychology;  and  their  success  depended 
on  their  ability  to  guess  whether  or  not  a  broker  rep 
resenting  a  big  manipulator,  like  Tighe,  had  an  order 
large  enough  to  affect  the  market  sufficiently  to  give 
them  an  opportunity  to  "get  in  and  out,"  as  they  termed 
it,  at  a  profit  before  he  had  completed  the  execution  of 
his  order.  All  their  days  were  spent  in  just  this  thought 
and  effort.  They  were 'like  hawks  watching  for  an  op 
portunity  to  snatch  their  prey  from  under  the  very  claws 
of  their  opponents. 

Four,  five,  ten,  fifteen,  twenty,  thirty,  forty,  fifty, 
and  sometimes  the  whole  company,  would  attempt  to 
take  advantage  of  the  given  rise  of  a  given  stock  by  either 
selling  or  offering  to  buy,  in  which  case  the  activity  and 
the  noise  would  become  deafening.  Given  groups  might 
be  trading  in  different  things;  but  the  large  majority  of 
them  would  abandon  what  they  were  doing  in  order  to  take 
advantage  of  a  specialty.  The  eagerness  of  certain  young 

82 


THE    FINANCIER 

brokers  or  clerks  to  discover  all  that  was  going  on,  and  to 
take  advantage  of  any  given  rise  or  fall,  made  for  quick 
physical  action,  darting  to  and  fro,  the  excited  elevation 
of  explanatory  fingers.  Distorted  faces  were  shoved  over 
shoulders  or  under  arms.  Grimaces  the  most  ridiculous 
were  purposely  or  unconsciously  indulged  in.  At  times 
there  were  situations  in  which  some  individual  was  fairly 
smothered  with  arms,  faces,  shoulders,  crowded  toward 
him  when  he  manifested  any  intention  of  either  buying 
or  selling  at  a  profitable  rate.  At  first  it  seemed  quite  a 
wonderful  thing  to  young  Cowperwood — the  very  physical 
face  of  the  thing — for  he  liked  human  presence  and  ac 
tivity;  but  a  little  later  the  sense  of  the  thing  as  a  pic 
ture  or  a  dramatic  situation,  of  which  he  was  a  part, 
faded,  and  he  came  down  to  a  clearer  sense  of  the  in 
tricacies  of  the  problem  before  him.  Buying  and  selling 
stocks,  as  he  soon  learned,  wras  an  art,  a  subtlety,  almost 
a  psychic  emotion.  Suspicion,  intention,  feeling — these 
were  the  things  to  be  "long"  on.  You  had  to  know  what 
a  certain  man  was  thinking  of — why,  you  could  not  say — 
and  suspect  that  he  was  going  to  buy  or  unload  a  given 
amount — why,  you  could  not  say.  If  you  had  a  big  buy 
ing  or  a  big  selling  order,  it  was  vitally  important  that 
your  emotions,  feeling,  or  subtlest  thought  should,  by  no 
trick  of  thought  transference,  telepathy,  facial  expression, 
or  unguarded  mood  on  your  part  be  conveyed  to  any  other 
person.  Some  men,  Rivers  informed  him,  were  psychic — 
clairvoyant  was  the  word  in  use  then.  They  could  tell — 
"how,  God  bless  me,"  he  exclaimed,  "I  don't  know." 

"Keep  away  from  Targool  over  there.  He's  particu 
larly  good  at  that.  When  you  see  him  hanging  around 
you,  avoid  him." 

Cowperwood  studied  the  man  curiously.  He  had  no 
fear  that  any  one  would  get  away  any  of  his  subtle  thought 
from  him;  but  this  small,  thin,  gray-headed  broker — 
say  forty-five  years  of  age — with  smooth  red  cheeks, 
keen  gray  eyes,  gray  eyebrows,  gray  mustache,  and  the 

83 


THE    FINANCIER 

most  exquisite  nicety  of  manner  and  clothing,  interested 
him.  So  he  was  clairvoyant,  eh  ? — Newton  Targool.  He 
watched  him,  and  in  spite  of  his  personal  confidence  gave 
him  a  wide  berth  when  he  had  any  heavy  buying  or  selling 
orders.  Rapidly  he  came  to  be  a  trusted  and  force 
ful  'change  man,  forcing  his  way  quickly  to  the  center 
of  any  situation,  suspecting  readily  what  his  rivals  were 
up  to,  knowing  the  nature,  character,  and  substance  of 
all  the  stocks  offered,  knowing,  as  much  as  any  one  on 
'change  could  know,  by  whom  and  for  what  purpose 
they  were  being  manipulated.  His  mind  began  naturally 
to  study  out  combinations,  tricks  that  could  be  played, 
ways  of  "bulling"  and  "bearing"  in  the  same  hour  to 
effect  a  profit.  At  first  he  loved  the  idea  of  it — the  chance 
and  drama;  but  after  a  little  while  he  grew  tired  of 
it  as  a  personal  medium  of  gain,  for  the  simple  reason 
that  it  was  so  vastly  uncertain. 

Who  was  it,  he  asked  himself,  who  made  the  real  money 
— the  stock-brokers?  Not  at  all.  Some  of  them  were 
making  money;  but  they  wrere,  as  he  quickly  saw,  like 
a  lot  of  gulls  or  stormy  petrels,  hanging  on  the  lee  of  the 
wind,  hungry  and  anxious  to  snap  up  any  unwary  fish. 
There  were  all  these  stocks  to  be  handled,  to  be  sure. 
The  handling  of  them  represented  a  legitimate  need  for 
people,  as  he  saw  it — financiers  who  had  to  have  some 
place  where  they  could  realize  quickly  on  assets  in  time 
of  stress;  but  who  were  the  people  who  made  the  real 
money?  They  were  not  the  brokers.  The  latter  were 
agents,  messengers,  hirelings  working  for  a  fixed  com 
mission.  Back  of  them  were  other  men,  men  with  shrewd 
ideas,  subtle  resources,  abundant  cash.  Better  yet,  they 
were  men  of  immense  means  whose  enterprise  and  hold 
ings  these  stocks  represented,  the  men  who  schemed  out 
and  built  the  railroads,  opened  the  mines,  organized  trad 
ing  enterprises,  and  built  up  immense  manufactories. 
Where  were  they?  Not  here.  They  might  use  brokers 
or  other  agents  to  buy  and  sell  on  'change;  but  this  buy- 

84 


THE    FINANCIER 

ing  and  selling  must  be,  and  always  so,  incidental  to  the 
actual  fact,  the  mine,  the  railroad,  the  wheat  crop,  the 
flour-mill,  and  so  on.  Anything  less  than  straight-out 
sales  to  realize  quickly  on  assets,  or  buying  to  hold  as  an 
investment,  was  gambling  pure  and  simple;  and  these 
men  were  gamblers.  He  was  nothing  more  than  a  gam 
bler's  agent — that  was  all.  He  said  nothing  about  it.  It 
was  not  troubling  him  any  just  at  this  moment;  but  it 
was  not  at  all  a  mystery  now,  what  he  was.  As  in  the  case 
of  Waterman  &  Co. ,  he  sized  up  these  men  shrewdly,  judg 
ing  some  to  be  weak,  some  foolish,  some  clever,  some 
slow;  but,  ;n  the  main,  all  small-minded  or  deficient  be 
cause  they  were  agents,  tools,  or  gamblers.  A  man,  a 
real  man,  must  never  be  an  agent,  a  tool,  or  a  gambler — 
acting  for  himself  or  for  others — he  must  employ  such. 
A  real  man — a  financier — was  never  a  tool.  He  used 
tools.  He  created.  He  led. 

Clearly,  very  clearly,  at  nineteen,  twenty,  and  twenty- 
one  years  of  age,  he  saw  all  this;  but  he  was  not  quite 
ready  yet  to  do  anything  about  it.  He  was  certain,  how 
ever,  that  his  day  would  come  later. 

It  was  while  he  was  working  for  Tighe  &  Co.,  in 
the  capacity  of  a  "two-dollar  broker,"  which  phrase  not 
infrequently  made  him  smile,  that  his  interest  in  Mrs. 
Semple  was  secretly  and  strangely  growing.  Because 
the  latter  had  been  at  first  so  informally  nice  to  him,  and 
because  the  families  knew  each  other  slightly,  when  he 
received  a  casual  invitation  to  call  he  did  so.  It  was 
with  a  curious  feeling  of  satisfaction  that  he  approached, 
the  first  time,  the  place  where  this  quiet  couple  resided, 
for  the  thought  of  seeing  Mrs.  Semple,  without  any  idea 
of  ever  possessing  her,  was  delightful.  Their  home,  as  he 
practically  noted,  was  not  as  nice  in  some  respects  as  his 
father's.  In  others  it  was  better.  The  yard  and  trees 
were  an  advantage  which  his  father's  place  did  not  pos 
sess.  At  first  Mrs.  Semple — Lillian  Semple — did  not 
have  so  much  to  say.  She  was  gracious  when  he  called; 

85 


THE    FINANCIER 

but  the  burden  of  conversation  fell  on  her  husband. 
Cowperwood  would  sit  and  look  at  her  while  he  talked 
to  her  husband,  watching  the  varying  expressions  of  her 
face;  and  if  she  had  been  at  all  psychic,  she  must  have 
felt  something.  Fortunately  she  was  not.  Mr.  Semple 
talked  to  him  pleasantly  because,  in  the  first  place, 
Frank  was  becoming  financially  significant — was  suave 
and  ingratiating — and,  in  the  next  place,  Mr.  Semple  was 
anxious  to  get  richer,  and  somehow  Frank  represented 
progress  to  him  in  that  line.  One  spring  evening  they 
sat  on  the  porch  and  talked — nothing  very  important: 
slavery,  street-cars,  the  panic — it  was  on  then,  that  of 
1857 — the  development  of  the  West.  Mr.  Semple  wanted 
to  know  all  about  the  stock  exchange.  Frank  told  him. 
He  asked  about  the  ramification  of  the  shoe  business, 
though  he  really  did  not  care.  All  the  while,  inoffen 
sively,  he  watched  Mrs.  Semple.  Her  manner,  he  thought, 
was  soothing,  attractive,  delightful.  She  served  tea  and 
cake  for  them.  They  went  inside  after  a  time  to  avoid 
the  mosquitoes.  She  played  a  little.  At  ten  o'clock  he 
left. 

Thereafter,  for  a  year  or  so,  Mr.  Cowperwood  bought 
his  shoes  of  Mr.  Semple.  He  occasionally  stopped  in  his 
Chestnut  Street  store  to  exchange  the  time  of  the  day. 
Mr.  Semple  wanted  his  opinion  as  to  the  advisability  of 
buying  some  shares  in  the  Fifth  and  Sixth  Street  line, 
which,  having  secured  a  franchise,  was  creating  great 
excitement.  Mr.  Cowperwood  gave  him  his  best  judg 
ment.  It  was  sure  to  be  profitable.  He  had  purchased 
one  hundred  shares  at  five  dollars  a  share,  and  so  urged 
Mr.  Semple  to  do  so.  Did  he  like  him?  Not  particularly. 
He  was  not  in  any  especial  way  interested  in  him  per 
sonally.  No,  he  liked  Mrs.  Semple,  and  he  did  not  see 
her  very  often,  either.  She  did  not  know  that  he  liked 
her.  She  thought  he  was  merely  a  friend  of  her  husband's. 

The  time  came,  about  a  year  later,  when  Mr.  Semple 
died.  It  was  an  untimely  death,  one  of  those  fortuitous 

86 


THE    FINANCIER 

and  in  a  way  undramatic  episodes  which  are,  nevertheless, 
dramatic  in  a  dull  way.  He  was  seized  with  a  cold  in  the 
chest  late  in  the  fall — one  of  those  seizures  ordinarily 
attributed  to  wet  feet,  or  going  out  on  a  damp  day  with 
out  an  overcoat — and  because  he  paid  little  or  no  atten 
tion  to  it,  insisted  on  going  to  business  when  Mrs.  Semple 
urged  him  to  stay  at  home  and  recuperate,  after  the  third 
or  fourth  day  he  was  very  much  worse.  Mr.  Semple  was 
in  his  way  a  very  determined  person,  not  obstreperously 
so,  but  quietly  and  under  the  surface.  Business  was  a 
great  urge.  Wealth,  that  thing  he  hoped  for,  lay,  he 
thought,  in  his  giving  unbroken  attention  to  business 
early  and  late.  He  saw  himself  soon  worth  about  fifty 
thousand  dollars.  Then  this  cold — nine  more  days  of 
pneumonia — and  he  was  dead.  The  shoe  store  was 
closed  for  a  few  days;  the  house  was  full  of  sympathetic 
friends  and  church  people.  There  was  a  funeral,  with 
burial  service  in  the  Callowhill  Presbyterian  Church,  to 
which  they  belonged,  and  then  Mr.  Semple  was  buried. 
Mrs.  Semple  cried  bitterly.  The  shock  of  death  affected 
her  greatly  and  left  her  for  a  time  in  a  depressed  state. 
A  brother  of  hers,  David  Wiggin,  undertook  for  the  time 
being  to  run  the  shoe  business  for  her.  There  was  no 
will,  but  in  the  final  adjustment,  which  included  the  sale 
of  the  shoe  business,  there  being  no  desire  on  anybody's 
part  to  contest  her  right  to  all  the  property,  she  received 
over  eighteen  thousand  dollars.  She  continued  to  reside 
in  the  Front  Street  house,  and  was  at  once  considered  a 
charming  and  interesting  widow. 

Through  this  procedure  young  Cowperwood,  only 
twenty  years  of  age,  was  quietly  manifest.  He  called 
through  the  illness.  He  attended  the  funeral.  He  helped 
her  brother,  David  Wiggin,  dispose  of  the  shoe  situation 
by  volunteering  to  go  and  talk  to  certain  shoe  dealers 
as  to  the  advisability  of  their  taking  over  this  stock.  He 
called  once  or  twice  after  the  funeral,  then  stayed  away  for 
a  considerable  time.  In  five  months  he  reappeared,  and 

87 


THE    FINANCIER 

thereafter  he  was  a  periodic  caller  at  stated  intervals — 
periods  of  a  week  or  ten  days. 

Again,  it  would  be  hard  to  say  what  he  saw  in  Mrs. 
Semple.  Her  prettiness,  wax-like  in  its  quality,  fasci 
nated  him;  her  indifference  aroused  perhaps  his  combat 
ive  soul ;  he  could  not  have  explained  why,  but  he  wanted 
her  in  an  urgent,  passionate  way.  He  could  not  think  of 
her  reasonably,  and  he  did  not  talk  of  her  much  to  any 
one.  His  family  knew  that  he  knew  her.  They  knew 
that  he  went  to  see  her;  but  there  had  grown  up  in  the 
Cowperwood  family  a  deep  respect  for  the  mental  force 
of  Frank.  He  was  genial,  cheerful,  gay  at  most  times, 
without  being  talkative;  and  he  was  decidedly  successful. 
Everybody  knew  he  was  making  money  now.  His  salary 
was  fifty  dollars  a  week,  and  he  was  certain  soon  to  get 
more.  Some  lots  of  his  in  West  Philadelphia,  bought 
three  years  before,  had  increased  notably  in  value.  His 
street-car  holdings,  augmented  by  still  additional  lots  of 
fifty  and  one  hundred  and  one  hundred  and  fifty  shares  in 
new  lines  incorporated,  were  slowly  rising,  in  spite  of  hard 
times,  from  the  initiative  five  dollars  in  each  case  to  ten, 
fifteen,  and  twenty-five  dollars  a  share — all  destined  to 
go  to  par.  He  was  learning  constantly  a  great  many 
things  about  the  financial  life  of  Philadelphia — its  banks, 
brokers,  financial  speculators,  schemes  on  foot,  and 
schemes  possible  to  be  put  on  foot.  He  was  liked  in  the 
financial  district,  and  he  was  sure  that  he  had  a  success 
ful  future.  Because  of  his  analysis  of  the  brokerage 
situation  he  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  he  did  not 
want  to  be  a  stock  gambler  at  all;  but  a  side  line  which  he 
had  observed  to  be  very  profitable,  which  involved  no  risk 
and  where  one  was  always  right  so  long  as  one  had  capital, 
was  that  of  bill-brokering.  This  appealed  to  him  much 
more.  It  was  a  sounder  proposition.  People  had  bills 
to  discount.  There  were  many  who  were  glad  to  take  a 
reasonable  risk.  You  were  dealing  in  securities,  behind 
which  there  was  a  tangible  value  not  subject  to  aimless 

88 


THE    FINANCIER 

fluctuations  and  stock- jobbing  tricks.  Through  his  work 
and  his  father's  connections  he  had  met  many  people — 
merchants,  bankers,  traders.  He  could  get  their  business, 
or  a  part  of  it,  he  knew.  People  in  Drexel  &  Co.  and  Clark 
&  Co.  were  friendly  to  him.  Jay  Cooke,  a  rising  banking 
personality,  was  a  personal  friend  of  his.  He  thought  it  over. 

Meanwhile  he  called  on  Mrs.  Semple,  and  the  more  he 
called  the  better  he  liked  her.  There  was  no  exchange 
of  brilliant  ideas  between  them;  but  he  had  a  way  of 
being  comforting  and  social  when  he  wished.  He  asked 
her  aimless  questions  which  seemed  sound  enough  to  her. 
He  advised  her  about  her  business  affairs  in  so  intelligent 
a  way  that  even  her  relatives  approved  of  it.  He  ap 
peared  absolutely  disinterested  as  far  as  her  financial 
affairs  were  concerned,  except  that  he  was  anxious  to 
see  her  come  out  perfectly  sound  in  the  matter.  On 
more  than  one  evening  he  sat  beside  her,  calculating  her 
assets,  explaining  their  advantageous  investment,  suggest 
ing  ways  and  means.  She  came  to  like  him,  because  he 
was  so  considerate,  quiet,  reassuring,  and  so  ready  to  ex 
plain  over  and  over  until  everything  was  quite  plain  to 
her.  She  could  see  that  he  was  looking  on  her  affairs 
quite  as  if  they  were  his  own,  trying  to  make  them  safe 
and  secure. 

"You're  so  very  kind,  Frank,"  she  said  to  him,  one 
night.  "I'm  awfully  grateful.  I  don't  know  what  I 
would  have  done  if  it  hadn't  been  for  you." 

She  looked  at  his  handsome  face,  which  was  turned  to 
hers  with  child-like  simplicity. 

"Not  at  all.  Not  at  all.  I  want  to  do  it.  I  wouldn't 
have  been  happy  if  I  couldn't." 

His  eyes  had  a  peculiar,  subtle  ray  in  them — not  a  gleam. 
She  felt  warm  toward  him,  sympathetic,  quite  satisfied 
that  she  could  lean  on  him. 

"Well,  I  am  very  grateful  just  the  same.  You've  been 
so  good.  Come  out  Sunday  again,  if  you  want  to,  or 
any  evening.  I'll  be  home." 


THE    FINANCIER 

She  didn't  think  of  him  as  anything  save  a  remarkably 
talented  young  man,  able,  forceful,  direct,  incisive,  and 
yet  gentle — to  her.  He  took  his  hat,  held  her  hand, 
looked  into  her  eyes,  and  went  away.  After  he  had  gone 
she  paused  a  moment,  coming  out  of  something  that 
seemed  like  a  warm,  cheering  vapor.  He  enveloped  her 
completely  with  the  charm  of  his  personality.  She  could 
not  have  said  why;  but  he  did. 

It  was  while  he  was  calling  on  her  in  this  way  in  her 
widowhood  that  his  Uncle  Seneca  died  in  Cuba  and  left 
him  fifteen  thousand  dollars  outright.  Davis  had  originally 
intended  to  leave  him  more;  but  Mrs.  Davis's  two  chil 
dren  by  him  came  in  for  later  consideration,  and  he  had  to 
revise  his  will.  This  money,  at  this  age,  made  Frank 
worth  nearly  twenty-five  thousand  dollars  in  his  own 
right,  and  he  knew  exactly  what  to  do  with  it.  A  panic 
had  come  since  Mr.  Semple  had  died,  which  had  illus 
trated  to  him  very  clearly  what  an  uncertain  thing  the 
brokerage  business  was.  It  was  really  a  severe  business 
depression.  Money  was  so  scarce  that  it  could  fairly 
be  said  not  to  exist  at  all.  Capital,  frightened  by  uncer 
tain  trade  and  money  conditions  everywhere,  retired  to 
its  hiding-places  in  banks,  vaults,  tea-kettles,  and  stock 
ings.  The  country  seemed  to  be  going  to  the  dogs.  War 
with  the  South  or  secession  was  vaguely  looming  up  in 
the  distance.  The  temper  of  the  whole  nation  was 
nervous.  People  dumped  their  holdings  which  they  had 
purchased  in  all  sorts  of  enterprises  on  the  market  in 
order  to  get  money — of  course,  from  those  who  had 
money.  They  were  purchased  for  a  song;  but  these 
purchases  were  not  many.  Tighe,  forced  by  the  situation, 
discharged  three  of  his  clerks.  He  cut  down  his  ex 
penses  in  every  possible  way,  and  used  up  all  his  private 
savings  to  protect  his  private  holdings.  He  had  many 
shares  of  stock  in  this,  that,  and  the  other  sound  organi 
zation;  but  he  had  hypothecated  them  all  for  loans, 
and  these,  in  many  instances,  were  being  called.  He 

90 


THE    FINANCIER 

mortgaged  his  house,  his  land  holdings  —  everything; 
and  in  many  cases  young  Cowperwood  was  his  inter 
mediary,  carrying  blocks  of  shares  to  different  banks 
with  the  suggestion  to  get  what  he  could. 

"See  if  your  father's  bank  won't  loan  me  fifteen  thou 
sand  on  these,"  he  said  to  Frank,  one  day,  producing  a 
bundle  of  Philadelphia  &  Wilmington  shares.  The 
latter  had  heard  his  father  speak  of  them  in  times  past 
as  excellent.  Now  he  carried  them,  fifty  thousand  dol 
lars'  worth,  and  showed  them  to  his  father. 

"They  ought  to  be  good,"  the  elder  Cowperwood  said, 
dubiously.  "At  any  other  time  they  would  be.  But 
money  is  so  tight.  We  find  it  awfully  hard  these  days 
to  meet  our  own  obligations.  I'll  talk  to  Mr.  Kugel." 
The  latter  was  the  president. 

There  was  a  long  conversation — a  long  wait.  His 
father  came  back  to  say  it  was  doubtful  whether  they 
could.  Eight  per  cent.,  then  being  secured  for  money, 
was  a  small  rate  of  interest,  considering  its  need.  For  ten 
per  cent.  Mr.  Kugel  might  make  a  call-loan.  Frank  went 
back  to  his  employer. 

"For  Heaven's  sake,  is  there  no  money  at  all  in  the 
town?"  he  asked,  content iously,  his  commercial  choler 
rising.  "Why,  the  interest  they  want  is  ruinous !  I  can't 
stand  that.  Well,  take  'em  back  and  bring  me  the 
money.  Good  God,  this  11  never  do  at  all,  at  all!" 

Frank  went  back.  "He'll  pay  ten  per  cent.,"  he  said, 
quietly. 

His  father  conferred  again.  After  a  while  Mr.  Tighe 
was  credited  with  a  deposit  of  fifteen  thousand  dollars, 
with  privilege  to  draw  against  it  at  once.  He  made 
out  a  check  for  the  total  fifteen  thousand  at  once  to  the 
Girard  National  Bank  to  cover  a  shrinkage  there.  So  it 
went. 

During  all  these  days  young  Cowperwood  was  follow 
ing  these  financial  complications  with  interest.  He  was 
not  disturbed  by  the  cause  of  slavery,  or  the  talk  of 


THE    FINANCIER 

secession,  or  the  general  progress  or  decline  of  the  country, 
except  in  so  far  as  it  affected  his  immediate  interests. 
He  wished  he  were  a  stable  financier;  but,  now  that  he 
saw  the  inside  of  the  brokerage  business,  he  was  not  so 
sure  that  he  wanted  to  stay  in  it.  Gambling  in  stocks,  ac 
cording  to  conditions  produced  by  this  panic,  seemed  very 
hazardous.  A  number  of  brokers  failed.  He  saw  them  rush 
into  Tighe  with  anguished  faces  and  ask  that  certain 
trades  be  canceled.  Their  very  homes  were  in  danger, 
they  said.  They  would  be  wiped  out,  their  wives  and 
children  put  out  on  the  street. 

"Why,  man  alive,  I  can't  do  it!"  he  heard  Tighe  ex 
claim,  one  day.  "Don't  you  know  I  can't?  I'm  on  the 
ragged  edge  myself.  I'm  hanging  on  by  the  skin  of  my 
teeth  as  it  is  now.  You  know  I  can't  do  it.  Good  God, 
man,  be  reasonable!  I  know  you're  hard  put  to  it— 
but  so  am  I.  So  is  everybody.  I'd  be  doing  this  every 
fifteen  minutes  in  the  day  if  I  did  it  for  you.  It  can't  be 
done." 

Cowperwood  knew  this  was  so.  It  was  hard  logic,  sad, 
cruel ;  but  what  else  could  Tighe  or  any  other  man  do  ?  He 
couldn't  reasonably  jeopardize  himself.  He  saw  a  man 
one  day — a  big,  strong,  strapping  fellow  whom  he  knew 
as  having  a  brisk  office  on  the  street,  and  who  had  been 
mentioned  to  him  as  one  of  the  coming  men — put  his  face 
in  his  hands  in  Tighe's  little  walled-off  private  office  and 
begin  to  sob  vigorously.  • 

"Why,  man,  come  to,"  said  his  employer,  inex 
orably,  but  at  the  same  time  sympathetically  standing 
over  him.  "I'd  help  you  if  I  could.  As  God  is  my 
judge  I  would.  But  I  can't.  You  won't  die!  I've 
been  wiped  out  myself.  When  this  thing  is  over, 
some  of  us  '11  help  you  to  get  on  your  feet.  I'll  be  glad 
to." 

"I  know,  I  know,"  sobbed  the  man,  the  tears  trickling 
between  his  ringers.  "If  it  wasn't  for  Bessie  and  the 
kids—" 

92 


THE    FINANCIER 

"There,  there,  now,"  soothed  Tighe,  with  his  slightly 
Irish  brogue. 

Suddenly  the  broker  leaped  up. 

"Damn  the  brokerage  business,  anyhow!"  he  exclaimed. 
"I've  never  had  a  day's  peace  since  I  entered  this 
street.  I'll  quit  this  hole  for  good.  I'll  dig  in  a  ditch 
first." 

His  face  was  red,  his  eyes  flaring  and  tempestuous. 
Cowperwood  noticed  that  his  hair  was  of  a  peculiarly 
rich,  flaxen  hue,  and  that  his  finger-nails  were  particularly 
shiny  from  having  been  long  polished. 

"Don't  say  that,  now,"  said  Tighe.  "You'll  feel  bet 
ter  after  a  while.  You'll  come  back.  We  all  do." 

The  man  strode  out. 

"There  you  have  it,  Cowperwood,"  observed  Tighe, 
meditatively.  "That's  the  way.  This  is  the  worst  run 
I've  been  through  yet.  I  don't  know  where  we're  going 
to  end.  I  may  have  to  close  myself  yet." 

Cowperwood  looked  out  at  the  street  through  the  win 
dow  at  the  time.  Surely  life  was  grim.  And  you  couldn't 
blame  anybody.  This  panic  was  somewhat  like  a  storm 
blowing  from  nowhere.  No  particular  person  was  to 
blame;  but,  nevertheless,  he  felt  as  though  he  had  had 
enough  of  the  brokerage  business,  and  decided,  now  that 
he  had  this  free  money,  to  leave  Tighe  and  go  into  business 
for  himself.  Tighe,  like  Waterman  &  Co.,  had  decided 
that  he  could  use  Cowperwood  best  as  a  minor  partner; 
but  the  latter  was  not  to  be  tempted. 

"I  think  you  have  a  nice  business,"  he  explained,  in 
refusing;  "but  I  want  to  get  in  the  note-brokerage  busi 
ness  for  myself.  I  don't  trust  this  stock  game.  I  don't 
believe  I'm  a  good  gambler  at  heart.  I'd  rather  have  a 
little  business  of  my  own  than  all  the  floor  work  in  this 
world." 

"But  you're  pretty  young,  Frank,"  argued  his  em 
ployer.  "You  have  lots  of  time  to  work  for  yourself." 

In  the  end  he  parted  friends  with  both  Tighe  and 

93 


THE    FINANCIER 

Rivers.  They  said  they  would  be  glad  to  help  him, 
which  they  did;  but  they  were  sorry. 

"That's  a  smart  young  fellow,"  observed  Tighe,  rue 
fully. 

"He'll  make  his  mark,"  rejoined  Rivers.  "Surely  he 
will.  He's  the  shrewdest  boy  of  his  age  I  ever  saw." 


CHAPTER  IX 

T  IFE  takes  on  a  peculiar  and  curious  light  when  love 
I  j  enters.  Ordinarily  it  is  sicklied  o'er  by  the  pale 
cast  of  reflection,  wearisome  and  drab;  but  when  love 
enters,  it  is  as  though  the  sun  rose  after  a  dreary  stretch 
of  weather — the  world  becomes  roseate  once  more.  Young 
Cowperwood,  facing  his  new  venture,  was  cheered  by 
this  radiance  of  a  new  morning,  in  which  for  him  love  was. 
He  had  some  free  money  now — considerable,  he  thought — 
in  addition  to  his  investments;  and  long  since  he  had 
learned  the  art  of  hypothecating  securities.  He  could 
take  his  street-car  stocks,  which  were  steadily  enhancing 
in  value,  and  raise  seventy  per  cent,  of  their  market 
price  by  paying  the  current  rate  of  interest.  He  could 
put  a  mortgage  on  his  lots  and  get  money  there,  if  he 
could  use  it  to  any  greater  advantage.  He  could  borrow 
on  his  credit,  his  personality,  from  his  father  and  others 
— Tighe  for  one,  or  Waterman — and  so  he  was  getting 
on.  He  had  established  financial  relations  with  the 
Girard  National  Bank,  a  man  by  the  name  of  Davison 
being  president  there  and  taking  a  fancy  to  him,  and  he 
proposed  to  borrow  from  that  institution  some  day. 
All  he  wanted  wTas  suitable  investments — things  in  which 
he  could  realize  surely,  quickly,  and  greatly — and  his 
eye  was  constantly  set  for  things  of  that  kind.  One  of 
the  things  outside  of  the  note-brokerage  business  in  which 
he  saw  fine  prospective  profits  was  the  street-car  business, 
which  was  rapidly  growing  in  its  local  ramifications. 

However,  the  thing  that  interested  him  most  at  this 
time  was  the  personality  of  Mrs.  Semple,  who,  as  he  saw 
her  more  and  more  regularly,  following  up  the  lead  his 

95 


THE    FINANCIER 

interest  in  her  affairs  had  given  him,  came  to  look  upon 
him  not  so  much  as  a  boy  as  a  man — in  a  way  a  shrewder 
man  than  her  late  husband.  It  has  been  said  that  the 
latter  had  not  made  much  of  an  impression  on  her.  It 
is  true.  She  was  really  not  of  a  very  impressionable 
nature;  but  there  was  a  tang  or  sting  to  the  personality 
of  young  Cowperwood  which  could  not  be  indifferently 
passed  over  by  any  one.  He  was  memorable  in  his 
quality.  She  talked  to  him  about  commonplace  things; 
he  helped  her  set  the  table  one  night  in  the  absence  of 
the  maid,  and  brought  her,  at  other  times,  her  wraps  or 
lace  mantilla  from  some  near-by  dressing-case  when  she 
was  cold;  but  she  felt  an  intangible  something  which 
had  nothing  to  do  with  words  or  actions.  Atmosphere  it 
was — the  atmosphere  or  aroma  or  vibration  of  his  particu 
lar  personality.  It  was  grateful. 

One  night,  when  she  was  going  to  bed,  she  stopped  in 
front  of  her  dressing-table  and  looked  at  her  face  and 
neck  and  arms,  which  were  bare.  They  were  pretty  and 
shapely.  A  subtle  something  came  over  her  as  she  sur 
veyed  her  long,  peculiarly  shaded  hair.  She  thought  of 
young  Cowperwood;  and  then,  the  vision  of  the  late  Mr. 
Semple  returning,  and  the  force  and  quality  of  public 
opinion,  she  chilled  and  was  ashamed.  It  frightened  her, 
this  thought,  as  being  something  antic,  evil,  impossible. 
She  went  to  bed,  tucking  the  covers  up  about  her  nose; 
but  somehow  the  personality  of  Mr.  Cowperwood  would 
not  down. 

The  latter  looked  at  her  always,  when  he  was  with  her, 
in  such  a  peculiar  way.  He  came  in  with  such  a  brisk, 
healthy,  vigorous  air.  His  smile  was  like  a  dash  of  cold 
salt  water,  awakening  her,  and  his  eyes — you  could  not 
explain  the  force  of  his  eyes.  He  purchased  a  horse  and 
buggy  about  this  time,  the  most  attractive-looking  animal 
and  vehicle  he  could  find — the  combination  cost  him  five 
hundred  dollars — and  invited  Mrs.  Semple  to  drive  with 
him.  She  refused  at  first,  but  later  consented.  From 

96 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

him,  during  many  visits,  she  had  heard  of  his  success,  his 
prospects,  his  windfall  of  fifteen  thousand  dollars,  his  inten 
tion  of  going  into  the  note-brokerage  business.  She  knew 
his  father  was  likely  to  succeed  to  the  position  of  vice- 
president  in  the  Third  National  Bank,  and  she  liked  the 
Cowperwoods.  At  her  husband's  death  they  had  called, 
and  there  had  been  visits  since.  Now  she  began  to  real 
ize  that  there  was  something  more  than  friendship  here. 
This  erstwhile  boy  was  a  man,  and  he  was  calling  on  her. 
It  was  almost  ridiculous  in  the  face  of  things — her  senior 
ity,  her  widowhood,  her  placid,  retiring  disposition — but  it 
wasn't.  The  sheer,  quiet,  determined  force  of  the  young 
man  made  it  not  so,  and  in  a  cool,  determined  way  he 
was  not  ready  to  be  balked  by  her  fear  or  her  sense  of 
convention. 

In  spite  of  her  fears  and  her  uncertainty,  Mrs. 
Semple  accepted  his  atientions  and  his  interest  because, 
equally  in  spite  of  herself,  she  was  drawn  to  him. 
He  had  a  direct,  offhand,  apparently  unconsidered 
manner.  Though  Mrs.  Semple  was  five  years  his  senior 
in  the  things  that  concerned  her  world,  mentally  he  was 
ten  years  hers.  Her  little  financial  affairs  were  as  noth 
ing  to  him.  He  was  not  eager  for  her  money,  though 
he  was  well  aware  of  it.  He  felt  that  he  could  use  it  to 
her  advantage.  He  wanted  her  physically — he  wanted 
to  shock  this  peculiarly  interesting,  torpid  beauty  into 
something  different,  and  he  felt  a  keen  preliminary  in 
terest  in  the  children  they  would  have.  He  wanted  to 
know  if  he  could  make  her  love  him  vigorously,  and  could 
rout  out  the  memory  of  the  other  life.  Strange  ambition. 
Strange  perversion,  one  might  almost  say. 

In  these  latter  days,  after  her  first  keen  sense  of  widow 
hood  had  worn  off,  he  would  call  and  talk  to  her,  and  she 
would  listen  to  his  general  observations  with  an  assump 
tion  of  a  kindly  interest. 

"Why  do  you  come  to  see  me  so  often?"  she  asked  him, 
once. 

97 


THE    FINANCIER 

"Oh,  don't  you  know?"  he  replied,  looking  at  her  in 
an  inscrutable  way. 

"No." 

"Sure  you  don't?" 

"Well,  I  know  you  liked  Mr.  Semple,  and  I  always 
thought  you  liked  me  as  his  wife.  He's  gone,  though, 
now." 

"And  you're  here,"  he  replied. 

"And  I'm  here?" 

"Yes.  I  like  you.  I  like  to  be  with  you.  Don't  you 
like  me  that  way?" 

"Why,  I've  never  thought  of  it.  You're  so  much 
younger.  I'm  five  years  older  than  you  are." 

"In  years,"  he  said,  "certainly.  That's  nothing.  I'm 
fifteen  years  older  than  you  are  in  other  ways.  I  know 
more  about  life  in  some  ways  than  you  can  ever  hope  to 
learn — don't  you  think  so?"  he  added,  softly,  persuasively. 

"Well,  that's  true.  But  I  know  a  lot  of  things  you 
don't  know.*'  She  laughed  softly,  showing  her  pretty  teeth. 

It  was  evening.  They  were  on  the  side  porch.  The 
river  was  before  them. 

"Yes,  but  that's  only  because  you're  a  woman.  A 
man  can't  hope  to  get  a  woman's  point  of  view  exactly. 
I'm  talking  about  you  as  far  as  the  management  of  the 
affairs  of  this  world  is  concerned.  You're  not  as  old 
as  I  am  mentally." 

"Well,  what  of  it?" 

"Nothing.  You  asked  why  I  came  to  see  you.  That's 
why.  Partially." 

He  relapsed  into  silence  and  stared  at  the  water. 

She  thought  of  him,  looking  at  him  from  the  difficult 
ground  of  the  late  union.  His  handsome  body,  slowly 
broadening,  was  nearly  full  grown.  His  face,  because  of 
its  full,  clear,  big,  inscrutable  eyes,  had  an  expression 
which  was  almost  babyish.  She  could  not  have  guessed 
the  depths  it  veiled.  His  cheeks  were  pink,  his  hands 
not  large,  but  sinewy  and  strong.  Her  pale,  uncertain, 

98 


THE    FINANCIER 

lymphatic  body  extracted  a  form  of  dynamic  energy  from 
him  even  at  this  range.  She  looked  her  name — a  lily — 
to  him.  He  looked  like  a  young  warrior  to  her,  with  his 
even  teeth,  his  square  jaw,  his  lip  that  could  part  into 
an  always  enigmatic  but  heavenly  smile. 

"I  don't  think  you  ought  to  come  to  see  me  so  often. 
People  won't  think  well  of  it."  She  ventured  to  take  a 
distant,  matronly  air — the  air  she  had  originally  held 
toward  him. 

''People,"  he  said,  "don't  worry  about  people.  People 
think  what  you  want  them  to  think.  I  wish  you  wouldn't 
take  that  distant  air  toward  me." 

"Why?" 

"Because  I  like  you." 

"But  you  mustn't  like  me.  It's  wrong.  I  can't  ever 
marry  you.  You're  too  young.  I'm  too  old." 

"Hush  that,"  he  said,  imperiously,  "there's  nothing  to 
it.  I  want  you  to  marry  me.  You  know  I  do.  Now, 
when  will  it  be?" 

"Why,  how  silly!  I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing!"  she 
exclaimed.  "It  will  never  be,  Frank.  It  can't  be!" 

"Why  can't  it?"  he  asked. 

"Because — well,  because  I'm  older.  People  would 
think  it  strange.  I'm  not  long  enough  free." 

"Oh,  long  enough  nothing!"  he  exclaimed,  irritably. 
"That's  the  one  thing  I  have  against  you — you  are  so 
worried  about  what  people  think.  They  don't  make  your 
life.  They  certainly  don't  make  mine.  Think  of  your 
self  first.  You  have  your  own  life  to  make.  Are  you 
going  to  let  what  other  people  think  stand  in  the  way  of 
what  you  want  to  do?" 

"But  I  don't  want  to,"  she  smiled. 

He  arose  and  came  over  to  her,  looking  into  her  eyes. 

"Well?"  she  asked,  nervously,  quizzically. 

He  merely  looked  at  her. 

"Well?"  she  queried,  more  flustered. 

He  stooped  down  to  take  her  arms,  but  she  got  up, 

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"Now  you  must  not  come  near  me,"  she  pleaded,  de 
terminedly.  "I'll  go  in  the  house,  and  I'll  not  let  you 
come  any  more.  It's  terrible!  You're  silly!  You 
mustn't  interest  yourself  in  me." 

She  did  show  a  good  deal  of  moral  determination,  and 
he  desisted.  He  went  away  that  night  unsatisfied  as  to 
a  caress  he  wanted  to  take  again,  and  again,  and  again. 
Then  one  night,  when  they  had  gone  inside  because  of 
the  mosquitoes,  and  when  she  had  insisted  that  he  could 
not  come  any  more,  that  his  attentions  were  noticeable 
to  others,  and  that  she  would  be  disgraced,  he  caught 
her,  under  desperate  protest,  in  his  arms. 

1 '  Now,  see  here !' '  she  exclaimed.  ' '  I  told  you !  It's  silly ! 
You  mustn't  kiss  me!  How  dare  you!  Oh!  oh!  oh! — ' 

She  broke  away  and  ran  up  the  near-by  stairway  to  her 
room.  Cowperwood  followed  her  swiftly.  As  she  pushed 
the  door  to  he  forced  it  open  and  recaptured  her.  He 
lifted  her  bodily  from  her  feet  and  held  her  crosswise, 
lying  in  his  arms. 

"Oh,  how  could  you!"  she  exclaimed.  "I  will  never 
speak  to  you  any  more.  I  will  never  let  you  come  here 
any  more  if  you  don't  put  me  down  this  minute.  Put 
me  down!" 

"I'll  put  you  down,  sweet,"  he  said.  "I'll  take  you 
down,"  at  the  same  time  pulling  her  face  to  him  and  kiss 
ing  her.  He  was  very  much  aroused,  excited. 

While  she  was  twisting  and  protesting,  pleading  to  be 
put  on  the  floor,  he  carried  her  down  the  stairs  again 
into  the  living-room,  and  seated  himself  in  the  great  arm 
chair,  still  holding  her  tight  in  his  arms. 

"Oh!"  she  sighed,  falling  limp  on  his  shoulder  when 
he  refused  to  let  her  go.  Then,  because  of  the  set  deter 
mination  of  his  face,  some  intense  pull  in  him,  she  smiled. 
"How  would  I  ever  explain  if  I  did  marry  you?"  she  asked, 
weakly.  "Your  father!  Your  mother!" 

"You  don't  need  to  explain.  I'll  do  that.  And  you 
needn't  worry  about  my  family.  They  won't  care." 

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"But  mine,"  she  recoiled. 

"Don't  worry  about  yours.  I'm  not  marrying  your 
family.  I'm  marrying  you.  We  have  independent  means. ' ' 

She  relapsed  into  additional  protests;  but  he  kissed 
her  the  more.  There  was  a  deadly  persuasion  to  his 
caresses.  Mr.  Semple  had  never  displayed  any  such 
fire.  He  aroused  a  force  of  feeling,  in  her  which  had  no. 
previously  been  there.  She  was  afraid  of  it  and  ashamed. 

"Will  you  marry  me  in  a  month?"  he  asked,  cheerfully, 
when  she  paused. 

"You  know  I  won't!"  she  exclaimed,  nervously.  "The 
idea!  Why  do  you  ask?" 

"What  difference  does  it  make?  You're  entitled  to 
marry  me.  We're  going  to  get  married,  eventually. 
Just  as  soon  as  you  want."  He  was  thinking  how  attrac 
tive  he  could  make  her  look  in  other  surroundings. 
Neither  she  nor  his  family  knew  how  to  live. 

"Well,  not  in  a  month.  Wait  a  little  while.  I  will 
marry  you  after  a  while — after  you  see  whether  you 
want  me." 

He  caught  her  tight.     "I'll  show  you,"  he  said. 

"Please  stop.     You  hurt  me." 

"How  about  us?     Two  months?" 

"Certainly  not." 

"Three?" 

"Well,  maybe." 

"No  maybe  in  that  case.     We  marry." 

"But  you're  only  a  boy." 

"Don't  worry  about  me.  You'll  find  out  how  much 
of  a  boy  I  am." 

He  seemed  of  a  sudden  to  open  up  a  new  world  to  her, 
and  she  realized  that  she  had  never  really  lived  before. 
This  man  represented  something  bigger  and  stronger  than 
ever  her  husband  had  dreamed  of.  In  his  young  way  he 
was  terrible,  irresistible. 

"Well,  in  three  months  then,"  she  whispered,  when  he 
rocked  her  cozily  in  his  arms. 

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CHAPTER  X 

THE  moral  nature  of  Frank  Cowperwood  may,  at 
this  juncture,  be  said  to  have  had  no  material  or 
spiritual  existence.  He  had  never  had,  so  far  as  he  had 
reasoned  at  all,  a  fixed  attitude  in  regard  to  anything 
except  preserving  himself  intact  and  succeeding.  His 
father  talked,  or  had  in  earlier  years,  of  business  honor, 
commercial  integrity,  and  so  forth.  Frank  thought  of 
this  a  long  time  at  odd  moments.  What  was  honor?  He 
had  never  been  able  to  define  it.  Men  seemed  to  think  it 
referred  to  some  state  of  mind  which  would  not  allow  a 
man  to  take  undue  advantage  of  another;  but  life,  ex 
perience,  taught  and  were  teaching  him  something  dif 
ferent.  Honor  was  almost,  he  thought,  a  figment  of  the 
brain.  If  it  referred  to  anything,  it  referred  to  force, 
generosity,  power;  but  these  were  not  rules  of  conduct, 
but  terms  of  temperament  and  condition.  A  man  might 
be  generous  at  times,  and  at  such  times  be  honorable; 
but  he  might  not,  on  the  face  of  things,  be  able  at  other 
times  to  be  generous.  Then  he  would  not  be  honorable. 
Or,  there  were  times,  such  as  in  the  days  of  panic,  when 
honor  would  ultimately  accrue  most  to  him  who  held  his 
own.  There  was  no  honor  for  the  failure.  Like  Tighe, 
when  appealed  to,  a  man  had  better  say  "I  can't"  or  "I 
won't"  firmly  and  let  it  go  at  that.  You  couldn't  be  gen 
erous  or  kind  in  times  of  stress.  Look  at  the  conditions 
on  the  stock  exchange. 

Here  men  came  down  to  the  basic  facts  of  life — the 
necessity  of  self  care  and  protection.  There  was  no  talk, 
or  very  little  there,  of  honor.  There  were  rules  of  conduct 
which  men  observed  because  they  had  to.  So  far  as  he 

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could  see,  force  governed  this  world — hard,  cold  force  and 
quickness  of  brain.  If  one  had  force,  plenty  of  it,  quick 
ness  of  wit  and  subtlety,  there  was  no  need  for  anything 
else.  Some  people  might  be  pretending  to  be  guided 
by  other  principles — ethical  and  religious,  for  instance; 
they  might  actually  be  so  guided — he  could  not  tell.  If 
they  were,  they  were  following  false  or  silly  standards.  In 
those  directions  lay  failure.  To  get  what  you  could  and 
hold  it  fast,  without  being  too  cruel,  certainly  not  to 
individuals — that  was  the  thing  to  do,  and  he  genially 
ignored  or  secretly  pitied  those  who  believed  otherwise. 

It  is  not  possible  to  say  how  a  boy  of  twenty-one  should 
come  by  such  subtle  thoughts;  but  he  had.  Religion 
was  nothing  to  him — a  lot  of  visionary  speculations  which 
had  no  basis  in  fact.  Why  should  people  get  excited 
about  religion?  He  smiled  at  hearing  his  father  tell 
how  only  a  few  years  before  a  regulation  of  the  city 
council  had  permitted  the  fastening  of  chains  across  the 
streets  in  front  of  churches  in  Philadelphia,  in  order  to 
prevent  traffic  from  annoying  the  worshipers.  And 
even  now  there  was  a  terrific  agitation  against  any  in 
fraction  of  the  Sunday  quiet  and  rest.  For  instance, 
they  would  not  allow  the  new  street-car  lines  to  run  on 
Sunday.  Religious  people  struck  him  as  being  caught 
by  some  emotion  or  illusion  which  had  no  relation  to 
life,  and  his  thought  was  not  to  rebel,  but  to  get  some 
method  of  ignoring  or  humoring  them  without  suffering 
for  it. 

"Go  through  the  motions,"  he  said  to  his  brother 
Joseph,  one  day  when  the  latter  was  complaining  of  the 
necessity  of  going  to  hear  a  dry  sermon.  "It  won't  hurt 
you.  Father  has  a  business  to  look  after." 

But  he  would  not  even  do  that  himself.  He  preferred 
to  substitute  the  reality  for  the  seeming.  When  he  was 
better  acquainted  with  Mr.  Rivers,  and  could  call  on  him 
on  Sunday  morning  to  talk  things  over,  he  did  that,  say 
ing  that  he  was  going  to  church  with  Miss  Emily  Rivers, 

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the  broker's  sister,  which  he  sometimes  did.  He  called  on 
his  Uncle  Seneca's  widow  on  Sunday,  and  at  other  houses 
where  he  had  been  introduced — the  Watermans,  George 
and  Henry,  the  Leighs — the  head  of  this  house,  Walter,  be 
ing  an  assistant  teller  in  Drexel  &  Co. — and  similar  indi 
viduals.  He  had  a  curious  feeling  that  certain  types  of 
men  would  be  useful  to  him,  and  he  could  be  charming 
ly  civil.  All  these  older  people  liked  him — they  enjoyed 
his  quiet,  sensible,  non-committal  observations. 

When  it  came  to  his  attitude  toward  Mrs.  Semple  he 
did  not  delude  himself  with  any  noble  theories  of  conduct 
in  regard  to  her.  He  liked  her.  She  was  beautiful,  pe 
culiar,  with  a  mental  and  physical  lure  for  him  that  was 
irresistible,  and  that  was  all  he  desired  to  know.  No 
other  woman  was  holding  him  like  that.  It  never  oc 
curred  to  him  that  he  could  not  like  other  women  at  the 
same  time.  He  did  so — Marjorie  Stafford,  in  a  lessening 
way.  There  was  a  great  deal  of  palaver  about  the 
sanctity  of  the  home.  It  rolled  off  his  mental  sphere  like 
water  off  the  feathers  of  a  duck.  Here  again  he  was  not 
fixed  or  held  by  anything.  Homes  were  nice.  His  father 
and  most  of  his  acquaintances  had  one — individual  homes. 
There  were  children  in  many  cases,  much  talk  of  purity 
and  chastity,  and  cleaving  only  to  one  woman.  He  was 
not  so  sure  about  that.  One  woman  might  fascinate  him. 
He  fancied  he  could  live  with  Mrs.  Semple  all  his  days, 
and  not  desire  any  other  woman;  but  other  men  might 
not  be  able  to  live  with  their  wives.  For  all  the  rules  of 
conduct  prevalent  in  the  air,  married  men  and  women 
did  fall  out.  He  heard  that  his  Uncle  Seneca  and  his 
wife  had  begun  to  quarrel  before  the  former  had  died. 
George  Waterman's  wife  was  supposed  to  be  very  sickly 
and  peevish,  and  one  of  the  clerks  at  Waterman  &  Co. 
had  once  confided  to  him  that  he  had  heard  George 
tell  Henry  that  he  wished  his  wife  was  dead.  George  had 
been  angry  about  something.  In  Frank's  own  neighbor 
hood  and  social  circle  there  were  rumors  and  facts.  Men 

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THE    FINANCIER 

and  women  did  separate.  Some  men  and  some  women 
ran  away.  Others  fought  terribly.  There  were  storms 
of  ill-feeling  and  brutality  reported.  He  knew  of  a  num 
ber  of  cases  where  the  husband  and  wife  were  permanently 
separated.  His  own  father  and  mother  got  along  nicely; 
but  his  mother  was  of  a  quiet,  peaceful,  sympathetic,  and 
religious  temperament,  and  his  father  was  cautious. 
They  quarreled  now  and  then.  There  were  little  strains 
of  feeling  over  trivial  things.  Unquestionably  both 
harbored  regrets  of  various  kinds.  Nearly  every  one 
did.  He  had  no  regrets  as  yet,  but  he  might  have.  The 
saddest  thing  to  him  was  to  see  the  defeated  man — the 
man  who  had  failed  because  he  could  not  think  quick 
enough.  He  wanted  to  make  himself  so  secure  finan 
cially  that  even  lack  of  quick  thinking  later  on  would 
not  subject  him  to  distress  and  regret. 

As  may  be  imagined,  the  family  was  greatly  disturbed  at 
the  announcement  of  his  coming  marriage  to  Mrs.  Sem- 
ple.  She  was  too  old,  his  mother  and  father  thought; 
and  then  Frank  could  have  done  so  much  better  with 
his  prospects.  Young  Anna  fancied  that  Mrs.  Semple 
was  designing,  which  was,  of  course,  not  true  at  all.  His 
brothers,  Joseph  and  Edward,  were  interested,  but  not 
certain  as  to  what  they  actually  thought,  seeing  that 
Mrs.  Semple  was  good-looking  and  had  some  money. 
Frank  seemed  to  know  what  he  was  about,  but  could 
have  done  better  if  he  had  waited,  of  course.  His  friends 
and  the  family's  friends  were  surprised  when  told;  but 
young  Cowperwood  was  getting  along,  and,  from  a  worldly 
point  of  view,  it  was  all  right.  Mrs.  Semple  had  a  right 
to  remarry  after  two  years,  if  she  wished.  There  was  no 
moral  or  ethical  law  binding  a  woman  so  young  to  single 
blessedness. 

The  time  drifted  by,  and  meanwhile  Frank,  who  had 
resigned  his  position  with  Tighe  &  Co.,,  had  opened 
a  little  note  -  broker's  office  at  No.  64  South  Third 
Street.  He  had  various  excellent  connections  which 

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THE    FINANCIER 

served  him  in  good  stead.  For  one  thing,  he  was  well 
and  favorably  known  in  the  street.  All  the  men  on 
'change  had  observed  him,  and  finally  became  friendly 
with  him.  Like  Rivers,  he  was  considered  able  and 
uniformly  courteous,  but  not  nearly  so  cold  or  hard 
seeming.  He  breathed  out,  quite  in  spite  of  himself, 
and  without  any  shabby  intention  of  making  friends,  an 
atmosphere  of  humanness.  Everybody  seemed  to  under 
stand  and  take  for  granted  that,  no  matter  what  their 
motives  or  tricks,  Cowperwood  understood  and  took  no 
umbrage.  He  made  no  great  show  of  hurry,  and  yet 
without  giving  offense  he  succeeded  in  doing  business 
quickly.  In  the  stock-exchange  deals  he  had  been  as 
quick  as  a  flash  at  times,  always  on  the  spot  snapping 
bargains  right  from  under  the  teeth  of  his  rivals,  and  yet 
he  had  a  bland  smile  which  allayed  chagrin  and  anger. 

"Sold!"  It  was  something  to  hear  his  quick,  cool 
voice. 

"  Seventy-three  for  any  part  of  five  hundred  '  Green  and 
Coates'"  (a  street-car  stock). 

"Sold!" 

Cowperwood  would  be  under  the  seller's  very  nose.  He 
had  the  faculty  which  he  had  envied  in  Targool — clairvoy 
ance.  He  could  fairly  see  and  feel  in  advance  what  was 
coming.  Sometimes  he  missed.  Not  often.  His  trades 
were  not  tremendous ;  but  he  had  come  to  the  place  where 
soon  he  would  have  succeeded  Rivers  on  the  floor.  Now,  in 
this  new  note-brokerage  business,  these  men  remembered 
him.  He  would  go  to  one  house,  where  he  suspected  ready 
money  would  be  desirable,  and  offer  to  negotiate  their 
notes  or  any  paper  they  might  issue  bearing  six  per  cent, 
interest  for  a  commission,  and  then  he  would  take  the 
paper  to  some  man  who  he  knew  had  idle  money  and 
would  welcome  a  secure  investment,  and  sell  him  the 
paper  for  a  small  commission.  Sometimes  his  father, 
sometimes  other  people  helped  him  with  suggestions  as 
to  when  and  how.  Between  the  two  ends  he  might  make 

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THE    FINANCIER 

four  and  five  per  cent,  on  the  total  transaction  himself. 
It  wasn't  much;  but  since  he  was  doing  this  all  the  time, 
and  people  were  friendly  to  him,  more  and  more  so  all 
the  time,  it  can  be  seen  how  it  was  that  in  the  first 
year  he  cleared  six  thousand  dollars  over  and  above 
all  expenses.  That  wasn't  much;  but  he  was  augment 
ing  it  in  another  way  which  meant  great  profit  in  the 
future. 

This  was  in  the  new  street-car  stocks  which  were  being 
issued,  and  in  which,  the  future  of  which,  he  believed 
firmly.  Before  the  first  line,  which  was  a  shambling 
affair,  had  been  laid  in  Front  Street,  the  streets  of  Phil 
adelphia  had  been  crowded  with  hundreds  of  rough, 
springless  omnibuses  rattling  over  rough,  hard  cobble 
stones.  Now,  thanks  to  the  idea  of  John  Stephenson,  in 
New  York,  the  double-rail-track  idea  had  come,  and  be 
sides  the  line  in  Fifth  and  Sixth  streets  (the  cars  running 
out  one  street  and  back  another),  which  had  paid  splen 
didly  from  the  start,  there  were  many  other  lines  pro 
posed  or  under  way.  The  city  was  as  crazy  to  see 
street-cars  replace  omnibuses  as  it  was  to  see  railroads 
replace  canals.  There  was  opposition,  of  course.  There 
always  is.  The  cry  of  probable  monopoly  was  raised. 
Disgruntled  and  defeated  omnibus  owners  and  drivers 
groaned  aloud. 

Cowperwood,  like  his  father,  was  one  of  those  who  be 
lieved  in  the  future  of  the  street-railway.  The  latter  was 
timid;  but  Frank,  believing,  risked  all  he  could  spare  on 
new  issues  of  stock  shares  in  new  companies.  He  was 
not  one  of  those  who,  like  the  average  rank  outsider,  seize 
unwittingly  whatever  is  thrown  them  by  an  inside  ring. 
If  possible,  he  wanted  to  be  on  the  inside  himself ;  but  in 
this  matter  of  the  street-railways,  having  been  so  young 
when  they  started,  and  not  having  arranged  his  financial 
connections  to  any  great  degree,  it  was  difficult  to  man 
age.  Still,  he  knew  that  they  were  going  to  pay,  and  pay 
largely.  The  Fifth  and  Sixth  Street  line,  which  had  been 

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THE    FINANCIER 

but  recently  started,  was  paying  six  hundred  dollars  a 
day.  A  project  for  a  West  Philadelphia  line  (Walnut  and 
Chestnut)  was  on  foot,  as  were  lines  to  occupy  Second  and 
Third  streets,  Race  and  Vine,  Spruce  and  Pine,  Green  and 
Coates,  Tenth  and  Eleventh,  and  so  forth.  They  were  en 
gineered  and  backed  by  some  big  capitalists  who  had  in 
fluence  with  the  State  legislature,  and  could,  in  spite  of  a 
great  public  protest  which  was  now  raised,  obtain  fran 
chises.  Charges  of  corruption  were  in  the  air.  It  was 
argued  that  the  streets  were  valuable,  and  that  the  com 
panies  should  pay  a  road  tax  of  a  thousand  dollars  a  mile. 
Somehow  these  splendid  grants  were  gotten  through  with 
out  much  protest,  however;  and  the  public,  hearing  of 
the  Fifth  and  Sixth  Street  line  profits,  was  eager  to  in 
vest.  Cowperwood  was  one  of  these.  The  whole  inci 
dent  had  renewed  his  contempt  for  public  opinion,  but 
it  did  not  lessen  his  interest  in  street-railways;  rather 
strengthened  it.  He  had  taken  all  the  stock  he  could 
afford  in  the  Fifth  and  Sixth  Street  line.  Now,  when  the 
Second  and  Third  Street  line  was  engineered,  he  invested 
in  that  and  in  the  Walnut  and  Chestnut  Street  line.  He 
began  to  have  vague  dreams  of  controlling  or  engineering 
a  line  himself  some  time;  but  as  yet  he  did  not  see  how  it 
was  to  be  done.  His  father  was  helping  him  with  sug 
gestions  as  to  where  negotiable  paper  could  be  disposed  of ; 
but  his  business  was  as  yet  far  removed  from  a  financial 
bonanza. 

In  the  midst  of  this  early  work  he  married  Mrs.  Semple, 
and  there  was  no  vast  to-do  about  it.  He  did  not  want 
any.  His  bride-to-be  was  nervous,  fearsome  of  public 
opinion,  disturbed  as  to  what  her  closest  friends  might 
be  thinking.  Frank  was  so  young — five  years  younger — 
she  was  a  widow.  Still,  he  forced  her  to  yearn  for  him, 
dominated  her  completely;  and  now  in  these  later  days 
she  was  as  eager  to  have  him  as  he  was  to  have  her.  One 
of  her  sisters  had  come  to  live  with  her.  Her  two  brothers 
were  frequent  visitors.  Frank  would  call  there  of  an  even- 

108 


THE    FINANCIER 

ing  and  hold  her  in  his  arms,  whispering  dreams  of  the 
future.  They  were  going  to  refurnish  this  house  and 
live  in  it  for  a  while.  He  was  going  to  arrange  his  affairs 
so  that  he  could  take  at  least  two  weeks  off.  After  the 
first  shock  of  announcement  his  mother  warmed  to  Mrs. 
Semple,  and  helped  to  arrange  things.  Even  Anna 
assisted — Joseph  and  Edward  called  often  socially.  Then, 
one  warm  October  day,  he  and  Lillian  were  married  in  the 
First  Presbyterian  Church,  of  Callowhill  Street,  because 
she  wished  it  so;  and  together  they  visited  New  York 
and  Boston — practically  her  first  journey.  His  bride,  he 
was  satisfied,  looked  exquisite  in  a  trailing  gown  of  cream 
lace — a  creation  of  months  and  much  labor.  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Cowperwood,  his  parents;  Mrs.  Seneca  Davis;  the  Wiggin 
family,  brothers  and  sisters,  and  some  friends  were  present. 
He  was  a  little  opposed  to  this  idea;  but  Lillian  wanted  it. 
He  stood  up  straight  and  correct  in  black  broadcloth  for 
the  wedding  ceremony — because  she  wished  it,  but  later 
changed  to  a  smart  business  suit  for  traveling.  They  took 
an  afternoon  train  for  New  York,  which  required  five 
hours  to  reach.  When  they  were  finally  alone  in  the 
Astor  House,  New  York,  after  hours  of  make-believe  and 
public  pretense  of  indifference,  he  gathered  her  stoutly 
in  his  arms. 

"Oh,  it's  delicious,"  he  exclaimed,  "to  have  you  all  to 
myself." 

She  met  his  eagerness  with  that  beautiful,  smiling 
passivity  which  he  had  so  much  admired,  but  which  this 
time  was  tinged  strongly  with  a  communicated  desire. 
He  thought  he  should  never  have  enough  of  her,  her  beauti 
ful  face,  her  lovely,  shapely  arms,  her  smooth,  lymphatic 
body.  They  were  like  two  children  billing  and  cooing, 
driving,  dining,  seeing  the  sights.  He  was  curious  to 
visit  the  financial  sections  of  both  cities  and  look  at  the 
great  banks  and  financial  offices.  New  York  and  Boston 
appealed  to  him  as  commercially  solid.  He  wondered, 
as  he  observed  the  former,  whether  he  should  ever  leave 

109 


THE    FINANCIER 

Philadelphia.  He  was  going  to  be  very  happy  there  now, 
he  thought,  with  Lillian,  and  possibly  a  young  brood  of 
Cowperwoods.  He  was  going  to  work  hard  and  make 
money.  With  his  means  and  hers  now  at  his  command 
he  might  become,  very  readily,  notably  wealthy. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  home  atmosphere  which  they  established  when 
they  returned  from  their  honeymoon  was  more 
artistic  than  that  which  had  characterized  the  earlier 
life  of  Mrs.  Cowperwood  as  Mrs.  Semple.  Ccwperwood, 
aggressive  in  his  current  artistic  mood,  had  objected  at 
once  after  they  were  engaged  to  the  spirit  of  the  furni 
ture  and  decorations,  or  lack  of  them,  and  had  suggested 
that  he  be  allowed  to  have  it  brought  more  in  keeping 
with  his  idea  of  what  was  appropriate.  During  these 
years  in  which  he  had  been  growing  into  manhood  he 
had  come  instinctively  into  sound  notions  of  what  was 
artistic  and  refined.  He  had  seen  so  much  of  homes 
that  were  more  distinguished  and  harmonious  than  his 
own.  One  could  not  walk  or  drive  about  Philadelphia 
without  seeing  and  being  impressed  with  the  general 
tendency  toward  a  more  refined  and  cultivated  social 
life.  There  were  many  excellent  and  expensive  houses 
going  up  in  the  west.  The  front  lawn,  with  some  attempt 
at  floral  gardening,  was  coming  into  local  popularity. 
In  the  homes  of  the  Tighes,  the  Leighs,  Mr.  Arthur 
Rivers,  and  others,  were  art  objects  of  some  distinction, 
which  he  had  seen — bronzes,  marbles,  hangings,  pictures, 
clocks,  rugs  better  than  any  his  family  had  ever  pos 
sessed.  He  had  meditated  on  these  things  at  odd  mo 
ments,  drawn  to  them  mightily.  Now,  when  he  was  think 
ing  of  setting  up  his  own  home,  these  thoughts  for  the 
time  being  became  uppermost. 

The  previous  condition  of  the  Semple  home  had  not 
appealed  to  him  at  all.  Mr.  Semple  appeared  dull ;  Mrs. 
Semple  indifferent  but  beautiful.  Her  setting  was  not 

in 


THE    FINANCIER 

right,  and  she,  of  her  own  volition  and  resources,  could 
not  make  it  right.  He  admitted  to  himself  that  in  all 
likelihood  she  did  not  have  the  taste;  but  that  did  not 
make  any  difference.  His  was  the  active  disposition, 
taking  great  joy  in  doing  things.  He  could  take  this 
comparatively  commonplace  house,  and  with  very  little 
money  make  it  into  something  charming.  The  dining- 
room,  for  instance,  which,  through  two  plain  windows 
set  in  a  flat  side  wall  back  of  the  veranda,  looked  south 
over  a  stretch  of  grass  and  several  trees  and  bushes  to  a 
dividing  fence  where  the  Semple  property  ended  and  a 
neighbor's  began,  could  be  made  into  something  so  much 
more  attractive.  That  fence — sharp-pointed,  gray  pal 
ings — was  an  abomination.  It  could  be  torn  away  and 
a  hedge  put  in  its  place.  The  wall  which  divided  the 
present  dining-room  from  the  parlor  should  be  knocked 
through,  and  a  hanging  of  some  pleasing  character  put 
in  its  place.  A  bay-window  could  be  built  to  replace  the 
two  oblong  ones  now  present — a  bay  which  would  come 
down  to  the  floor  and  open  out  on  the  lawn  via  swiveled, 
diamond-shaped,  lead-paned  frames  which  would  be  so 
much  more  attractive.  All  this  shabby,  nondescript 
furniture,  collected  from  heaven  knows  where — partly 
inherited  from  the  Semples  and  the  Wiggins,  and  partly 
bought — could  be  thrown  out  or  sold,  and  something 
better  and  more  harmonious  introduced.  He  had  heard 
vaguely  of  styles  of  furniture — Louis  XIV.,  Louis  XV., 
Louis  XVI.,  the  Empire,  Sheraton,  Chippendale,  Colonial, 
Old  English.  Any  of  these,  or  some  modification  of  them, 
something  simple,  would  do.  He  knew  a  young  man  by 
the  name  of  Ellsworth,  an  architect  newly  graduated  from 
a  local  school,  whom  he  had  met  at  the  bachelor  home  of 
Arthur  Rivers.  With  him  he  had  struck  up  an  interesting 
friendship — one  of  those  inexplicable  inclinations  of  tem 
perament — which  pleased  him  greatly.  Ellsworth,  Wil 
ton  Ellsworth,  was  an  artist  in  spirit,  quiet,  meditative, 
refined.  Cowperwood  had  liked  his  looks  on  sight.  From 

112 


THE    FINANCIER 

discussing  the  quality  of  a  certain  building  in  Chestnut 
Street,  which  was  then  being  done,  and  which  Ellsworth 
pronounced  atrocious,  they  fell  to  discussing  art  in  gen 
eral,  or  the  lack  of  it  in  America.  "We  are  so  very  far 
away  from  anything  at  all  as  yet,  I  know,  unless  it  is 
Colonial  architecture,"  Ellsworth  remarked.  "I  haven't 
been  abroad;  but  I  want  to  go." 

Cowperwood  felt  a  keen  kinship  with  this  thought.  He 
wanted  to  travel  also  some  time. 

They  met  again  on  the  street  accidentally  and  talked; 
and  so  now,  when  Cowperwood  thought  of  this  house  and 
what  was  the  matter  with  it,  he  thought  of  Ellsworth. 
It  occurred  to  him  that  Ellsworth  would  carry  out  his 
decorative  viewrs  to  a  nicety.  It  seemed  to  him  that  the 
Semple  home  would  be  much  more  endurable  if  its  parlor 
and  sitting-room  were  knocked  together  into  one  big 
room,  which  could  be  used  as  a  combined  living-room  and 
library,  and  a  certain  fireplace,  which  was  now  too  small 
for  one  room,  were  enlarged  to  make  it  at  once  effective 
and  artistic.  The  walls  ought  to  be  papered  or  decorated 
in  corresponding  colors — probably  dark — and  the  furni 
ture  all  thrown  out  and  something  new,  correlative,  and 
soothing  be  introduced.  He  did  not  feel  that  as  yet  he 
could  afford  many  expensive  objects  of  art,  but  in  so  far 
as  his  means  permitted  he  wanted  his  proposed  home  to 
be  artistic.  He  interested  Mrs.  Cowperwood  in  young 
Ellsworth,  and  then  in  his  own  ideas  of  how  the  house 
could  be  revised. 

Mrs.  Cowperwood  was  not  an  intellectual  leader.  Her 
young  lover  appeared  to  be  a  man  of  infinite  tact  and  dis 
crimination.  She  could  understand  wrell  enough,  though 
not  vitally,  the  significance  of  most  of  his  thoughts  when 
presented  to  her,  and  these  concerning  the  revision  of  the 
house  appealed  to  her  very  much.  She  wanted  to  live 
nicely  —  to  be  significant  in  her  circle.  His  idea  of 
changing  the  dining-room  and  parlor  was  particularly 
grateful. 


THE    FINANCIER 

"Oh  yes,  let's  do  that,"  she  exclaimed,  when  he  told 
her.  "Wouldn't  that  be  pretty?  Can  Mr.  Ellsworth 
carry  out  your  ideas  exactly?" 

"1  think  so.  It  may  cost  a  little  something;  but  we 
will  want  to  live  in  it  for  some  time,  maybe,  and,  any 
how,  if  you  should  want  to  sell  it,  it  would  bring  more 
changed  as  I  say." 

"I  want  to  sell  it!"  she  commented.     "Say  we,  dear." 

"Very  well  then,  we." 

He  smiled  and  smoothed  her  chin  and  cheek  with  his 
hand. 

So  while  they  were  gone  on  their  honeymoon  Mr. 
Ellsworth  began  the  revision  on  an  estimated  cost  of  three, 
thousand  dollars  for  the  furniture  and  all.  It  was  not 
completed  for  nearly  three  weeks  after  they  returned; 
but  when  done  it  was  a  comparatively  new  house.  The 
dining-room  bay  hung  low  over  the  grass,  as  Frank  wished, 
and  the  windows  were  diamond-paned  and  leaded, 
swiveled  on  brass  rods.  The  opening  between  the  living- 
room  and  the  dining-room  had  noiseless  rolling  doors ;  but 
the  intention  was  to  use  only  a  light-blue,  brown,  and 
green  silk  hanging,  which  represented  a  wedding  scene  in 
Normandy,  in  the  square  space.  Delicately  cut  Old 
English  oak  was  used  in  the  dining-room,  an  American 
imitation  of  Chippendale  and  Sheraton  for  the  sitting-room 
and  the  bedrooms.  There  were  a  few  simple  water-colors 
hung  here  and  there,  some  bronzes  of  Hosmer  and  Powers, 
a  marble  Venus  by  Potter,  a  now  forgotten  sculptor, 
and  other  objects  of  art — nothing  of  any  distinction. 
Pleasing,  appropriately  colored  rugs  covered  the  floor. 
Mrs.  Cowperwood  was  shocked  by  the  nudity  of  the 
Venus  which  conveyed  an  atmosphere  of  European  free 
dom  not  common  to  America;  but  she  said  nothing. 
It  was  all  harmonious  and  soothing,  and  she  did  not  feel 
herself  capable  to  judge.  Frank  knew  about  these  things 
so  much  better  than  she  did.  Instantly  a  maid  and  a 
man  of  all  work  were  installed,  and  that  process  of  enter- 

114 


THE    FINANCIER 

taining  which  young  married  couples  so  much  enjoy  was 
begun  on  a  small  scale. 

Those  who  recall  the  early  years  of  their  married  life 
can  best  realize  the  subtle  changes  which  this  new  condi 
tion  brought  to  Frank,  for,  like  all  who  accept  the  hymeneal 
yoke,  he  was  influenced  to  a  certain  extent  by  the  things 
with  which  he  surrounded  himself.  Primarily,  from  cer 
tain  traits  of  his  character,  one  would  have  imagined  him 
called  to  be  a  citizen  of  eminent  respectability  and  worth. 
He  appeared  to  be  an  ideal  home  man.  He  liked  horses 
moderately — the  vehicular  object  of  them  more  than  the 
horse  itself.  He  liked  a  yard,  the  idea  of  a  home,  the 
thought  of  decorating  and  arranging  it  individually.  This 
thought  of  his  wife's  cottage,  and  her  in  it,  cheered  him 
greatly.  She  was  so  nice  in  it.  He  delighted  to  fondle 
her  body  evenings;  and,  leaving  the  crowded  down-town 
section  where  traffic  clamored  and  men  hurried  in  a  great 
stress  of  effort,  he  would  come  out  through  the  dusk  of 
the  evening  to  this  spot  where  were  vines,  in  season,  and  a 
charming  view  of  the  river  spreading  wide  and  gray  in  dark 
weather,  or  leaden  blue  and  silver  in  bright,  and  feel  that 
he  was  well  stationed  and  physically  happy  in  life.  The 
thought  of  the  dinner-table  with  candles  upon  it  (his 
idea);  the  thought  of  Lillian  in  a  trailing  gown  of  pale- 
blue  or  green  silk — he  liked  her  in  those  colors;  the 
thought  of  a  big  fireplace  flaming  with  solid  lengths  of 
cord-wood,  and  Lillian  snuggling  in  his  arms,  gripped  his 
forceful  imagination.  As  has  been  said  before,  he  cared 
nothing  for  books;  but  life,  pictures,  physical  contact, 
trees — these,  in  spite  of  his  shrewd  and  already  gripping 
financial  calculations,  held  him.  To  live  richly,  joyously, 
fulsomely — his  whole  nature  craved  that. 

And  Mrs.  Cowperwood,  in  spite  of  the  difference  in 
their  years,  appeared  to  be  a  fit  mate  for  him  at  this  time. 
She  was,  once  awakened,  and  for  the  time  being,  clinging, 
responsive,  dreamy.  His  mood  and  hers  was  for  a  baby, 
and  in  a  little  while  that  happy  expectation  was  whispered 


THE    FINANCIER 

to  him  by  her.  She  had  half  fancied  that  her  previous 
barrenness  was  due  to  herself,  and  was  rather  surprised 
and  delighted  at  the  proof  that  it  was  not  so.  It  opened 
new  possibilities — a  seemingly  glorious  future  of  which 
she  was  not  afraid.  He  liked  it,  the  idea  of  self-duplica 
tion.  It  was  almost  acquisitive,  this  thought.  For  days 
and  weeks  and  months  and  years,  at  least  the  first  four 
or  five,  he  took  a  keen  satisfaction  in  coming  home  even 
ings,  strolling  about  the  yard,  driving  with  his  wife, 
having  friends  in  to  dinner,  talking  over  with  her  in  an 
explanatory  way  the  things  he  intended  to  do.  She  did 
not  understand  his  financial  abstrusities,  and  he  did  not 
trouble  to  make  them  clear.  A  suggestion  was  enough. 
But  love,  her  pretty  body,  her  lips,  her  quiet  manner — 
the  lure  of  all  these  combined,  and  his  two  children,  when 
they  came — two  in  four  years — held  him.  He  was  really 
a  very  comfortable  and  home-interested  young  man. 
He  would  dandle  Frank,  Jr.,  who  was  the  first  to  arrive, 
on  his  knee,  looking  at  his  chubby  feet,  his  kindling 
eyes,  his  almost  formless  yet  bud-like  mouth,  and  wonder 
at  the  process  by  which  children  came  into  the  world. 
There  was  so  much  to  think  of  in  this  connection — the 
spermatozoic  beginning,  the  strange  period  of  gestation 
in  women,  the  danger  of  disease  and  delivery.  He  had 
gone  through  a  real  period  of  strain  when  Frank,  Jr., 
was  born,  for  Mrs.  Cowperwood  was  frightened.  She 
had  heard  that  it  might  be  very  trying.  He  cared  for 
the  beauty  of  her  body — the  danger  of  losing  her;  and  he 
actually  endured  his  first  worry  when  he  stood  outside 
the  door  the  day  the  child  came.  Not  much — he  was  too 
self-sufficient,  too  resourceful;  and  yet  he  worried,  con 
juring  up  thoughts  of  death  and  the  end  of  their  present 
state.  Then  word  came,  after  certain  piercing,  harrowing 
cries,  that  all  was  well,  and  he  was  permitted  to  look  at 
the  new  arrival.  The  experience  broadened  his  concep 
tion  of  things,  made  him  more  solid  in  his  judgment  of 
life.  That  old  conviction  of  tragedy  underlying  the  sur- 

116 


THE    FINANCIER 

face  of  things,  like  wood  under  its  veneer,  was  emphasized. 
He  knew  that  he  had  gifts  and  powers  not  vouchsafed 
him  because  of  any  effort  on  his  part,  and  he  knew  that 
he  must  exercise  them  sanely  and  continuously  in  order 
to  obtain  and  maintain  what  he  wished  to  be.  Little 
Frank,  and  later  Lillian,  blue-eyed  and  golden-haired, 
touched  his  imagination  for  a  while.  There  was  a  good 
deal  to  this  home  idea,  after  all.  That  was  the  way  life 
was  organized,  and  properly  so — on  the  theory  or  corner 
stone  of  the  home.  The  world  must  have  homes.  Chil 
dren  must  be  raised  within  their  sheltering  walls,  safe 
guarded,  nurtured,  trained,  given  a  point  of  view.  He 
had  been  so  reared.  Now  he  was  handing  on  this  tradi 
tion,  this  principle  unmodified.  That  was  the  way  things 
should  be,  no  doubt. 

It  would  be  impossible  to  indicate  fully  how  subtle 
were  the 'material  changes  which  these  years  involved — 
changes  so  gradual  that  they  were,  like  the  lap  of  soft 
waters,  unnoticeable.  Considerable — a  great  deal,  con 
sidering  how  little  he  had  to  begin  with — of  wealth  was 
added  in  the  next  five  years.  He  came,  in  his  financial 
world,  to  know  fairly  intimately,  as  commercial  relation 
ships  go,  some  of  the  subtlest  characters  of  the  steadily 
enlarging  financial  world.  In  the  old  days,  at  Tighe's  and 
on  'change,  many  curious  figures  had  been  pointed  out  to 
him — the  State  and  city  officials  of  one  grade  and  another 
who  were  "making  something  out  of  politics,"  and  some 
of  the  national  figures  who  came  from  Washington  to 
Philadelphia  at  times  to  see  Drexel  &  Co.,  Clark  &  Co., 
and  even  Tighe  &  Co.  These  men,  as  he  learned  and  as 
his  father  often  told  him,  had  something  "up  their  sleeve." 
They  had  tips  or  advance  news  of  legislative  or  economic 
changes  which  were  sure  to  affect  certain  stocks  or  trade 
opportunities.  Various  brokers  represented  them,  and 
they  "came  over"  for  consultation.  A  young  clerk, 
Satterlee  by  name,  had  once  pulled  his  sleeve  at  Tighe's. 

117 


THE    FINANCIER 

"See  that  man  going  in  to  see  Tighe?" 

"Yes." 

"That's  Murtagh,  the  city  treasurer.  Say,  he  don't 
do  anything  but  play  a  fine  game.  All  that  money  to  in 
vest,  and  he  don't  have  to  account  for  anything  except 
the  principal.  The  interest  goes  to  him." 

Young  Cowperwood  smiled  subtly,  without  comment, 
but  bidding  by  his  smile  for  more. 

"You  know  that  Baltimore  and  Washington  stock?" 

"Yes." 

"It's  all  being  carried  for  him.  Tighe  draws  on  the 
Treasury  for  whatever  he  needs  to  buy  with.  He's  put 
one  hundred  thousand  in  B.  and  W.  for  Murtagh  in  the 
last  sixty  days." 

Cowperwood  understood.  All  these  city  and  State 
officials  speculated.  They  had  a  habit  of  depositing  city 
and  State  funds  with  certain  bankers  and  brokers  as  au 
thorized  agents  or  designated  State  depositories.  The 
banks  paid  no  interest — save  to  the  officials  personally. 
They  loaned  it  to  certain  brokers  on  the  officials'  secret 
order,  and  the  latter  invested  it  in  "sure  winners."  The 
bankers  got  the  free  use  of  the  money  a  part  of  the  time, 
the  brokers  another  part;  the  officials  made  money,  and 
the  brokers  received  a  fat  commission.  There  was  a 
political  ring  in  Philadelphia  in  which  the  mayor,  certain 
members  of  the  council,  the  treasurer,  the  chief  of  police, 
the  commissioner  of  public  works,  and  others  shared.  It 
was  a  case  generally  of  "You  scratch  my  back  and  I'll 
scratch  yours."  Young  Cowperwood  did  not  know  the 
exact  details  of  this  ring  and  its  operation  at  this  time; 
but  there  were  so  many  evidences  of  its  presence  that  he 
could  not  fail  to  see  how  subtle  and  powerful  it  was. 
The  public  was  being  beautifully  hoodwinked.  City 
money  and  city  privileges  were  being  hawked  about  and 
traded  upon.  He  thought  it  rather  shabby  work  at  first; 
but  many  men  were  rapidly  getting  rich,  and  no  one 
seemed  to  care.  The  newspapers  were  always  talking 

118 


THE    FINANCIER 

about  civic  patriotism  and  pride,  but  never  a  word  about 
these  things.  And  the  men  who  did  them  were  powerful 
and  respected. 

Still,  although  in  no  position  to  make  any  large  con 
nections  as  yet,  he  himself  was  doing  very  well,  and  so 
these  things  did  not  trouble  him  as  yet.  There  were  many 
houses,  a  constantly  widening  circle,  that  found  him  a 
very  trustworthy  agent  in  disposing  of  note  issues  or  note 
payment.  He  seemed  to  know  so  quickly  where  to  go  to 
get  the  money.  From  the  first  he  made  it  a  principle 
to  keep  twenty  thousand  dollars  in  cash  on  hand  in  order 
to  be  able  to  take  up  a  proposition  instantly  and  with 
out  discussion.  So,  often  he  was  able  to  say,  "Why, 
certainly,  I  can  do  that,"  when  otherwise,  on  the  face  of 
things,  he  would  not  have  been  able  to  do  so.  His  ver 
satile  mind  told  him  where  he  could  find  men  and  means, 
and  moneyed  men  liked  him.  He  was  asked  if  he  would 
not  handle  certain  stock  transactions  on  'change.  He 
had  no  seat,  and  he  intended  not  to  take  any  at  first; 
but  now  he  changed  his  mind  and  bought  one,  not  only 
in  Philadelphia,  but  in  New  York  also.  A  certain  Joseph 
Zimmerman,  a  dry-goods  man  for  whom  he  had  handled 
various  note  issues,  suggested  that  he  undertake  operat 
ing  in  street-railway  shares  for  him,  and  this  was  the 
beginning  of  his  return  to  the  floor. 

In  the  meanwhile  his  family  life  was  changing — growing, 
one  might  have  said,  finer  and  more  secure.  Mrs.  Cow- 
perwood  had,  for  instance,  been  compelled  from  time  to 
time  to  make  a  subtle  readjustment  of  her  personal  re 
lationship  with  people,  as  he  had  with  his.  When  Mr. 
Semple  was  alive  she  had  been  socially  connected  with 
tradesmen  principally — retailers  and  small  wholesalers — a 
very  few.  Some  of  the  women  of  her  own  church,  the 
First  Presbyterian,  were  friendly  with  her.  There  had 
been  church  teas  and  sociables  which  she  and  Mr. 
Semple  attended,  and  dull  visits  to  his  relatives  and 
hers.  The  Cowperwoods,  the  Watermans,  and  a  few 

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THE    FINANCIER 

families  of  that  caliber,  had  been  the  notable  exceptions. 
Now  all  this  was  changed.  Young  Cowperwood  did 
not  care  very  much  for  her  relatives,  and  the  Semples, 
bag  and  baggage,  had  been  alienated  by  her  second,  and 
to  them  outrageous,  marriage.  His  own  family  was  close 
ly  interested  by  ties  of  affection  and  mutual  prosperity; 
but,  better  than  this,  Cowperwood  was  drawing  to  him 
self  some  really  significant  personalities.  When  he  went 
through  Third  Street  in  the  morning — he  came  down  to 
Arch  Street  on  a  car  and  then  walked — he  was  nodded  to 
by  many  presidents,  vice-presidents,  treasurers,  and  other 
officials  of  banks  and  organizations,  by  whom  he  was 
well  and  favorably  known.  His  little  office  on  the  ground 
floor  in  No.  64  now  boasted  a  'change  "floor-man,"  a 
cashier,  a  bookkeeper,  and  several  clerks.  His  brothers 
were  coming  in  with  him  shortly  as  associates.  He  brought 
home  with  him,  socially — not  to  talk  business,  for  he 
disliked  that  idea  rather  thoroughly — bankers,  investors, 
customers,  and  prospective  customers.  He  could  not 
avoid  a  certain  amount  of  discussion  at  first;  but  he 
preferred  to  entertain  merely  and  be  a  good  fellow.  Out 
on  the  Schuylkill,  the  Wissahickon,  and  elsewhere,  were 
popular  dining-places  where  one  could  drive  on  Sunday. 
He  and  Mrs.  Cowperwood  frequently  drove  out  to  Mrs. 
Seneca  Davis's;  to  Judge  Kitchen's;  to  the  home  of 
Andrew  Sharpless,  a  lawyer  whom  he  knew;  to  the  home 
of  Harper  Steger,  his  own  lawyer,  and  others.  Cowperwood 
had  the  art  of  being  genial.  None  of  these  men  or 
women  suspected  the  depth  of  his  nature — he  was  think 
ing,  thinking,  thinking;  but  enjoyed  life  as  he  went. 

One  of  his  earliest  and  steadily  growing  traits  was  his 
penchant  for  pictures.  Art  from  the  very  first  fascinated 
him.  He  admired  nature;  but,  somehow,  without  know 
ing  why,  he  fancied  one  must  see  it  best  through  some 
personality  or  interpreter,  just  as  we  gain  our  ideas  of  law 
and  politics  through  individuals.  Mrs.  Cowperwood  cared 
not  a  whit  one  way  or  the  other;  but  she  accompanied 

1 20 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

him,  thinking  all  the  while  that  Frank  was  a  little  peculiar, 
as  he  had  always  been.  He  tried,  because  he  loved  her, 
to  interest  her  in  these  things  intelligently;  but  while 
she  pretended  slightly,  she  could  not  really  see  or  care, 
and  it  was  very  plain  that  she  could  not. 

The  children,  after  they  came,  took  up  a  great  deal  of 
her  time;  and  she  settled  into  a  quiet  home  life,  which 
she  wanted  to  make  ideally  conservative  and  respectable 
for  his  sake.  She  was  not  as  strong  as  she  had  been 
before  these  sieges  of  childbirth,  and  it  made  some  dif 
ference  in  her  looks.  However,  Cowperwood  was  not 
troubled  about  this  at  this  time.  It  struck  him  as  de 
lightful  and  exceedingly  worth  while  that  she  should  be 
so  devoted.  A  little  later  it  was  not  quite  so  remarkable 
or  notable,  for  he  was  used  to  her  attitude  by  now; 
and  the  children,  after  the  first  three  or  four  years,  bored 
him  a  little.  He  was  used  also  to  her  manner,  her  vague 
smile,  her  sometimes  seeming  indifference  which  sprang 
largely  from  a  sense  of  absolute  security.  She  took  her  sec 
ond  marriage  quite  as  she  had  taken  her  first — a  solemn  fact 
which  contained  no  possibility  of  mental  alteration  or 
change.  He  was  bustling  about  in  a  world  which,  finan 
cially  at  least,  seemed  all  alteration — there  were  so  many 
sudden  and  almost  unheard-of  changes.  He  began  to 
look  at  her  at  times  with  a  speculative  eye — not  very 
critically,  for  he  liked  her — but  with  a  solid  attempt  to 
weigh  up  her  personality.  He  had  known  her  five  years 
and  more  now.  What  did  he  know  about  her?  The 
vigor  of  desire  in  youth — these  first  years — had  made  up 
for  so  many  things;  but  now  that  he  had  her  safely— 

There  were  odd  things  that  came  in  this  period — things 
that  would  have  affected  some  men's  lives  radically. 
For  one  thing,  there  was  the  slow  approach,  and,  finally, 
the  declaration,  of  war  between  the  North  and  the  South, 
which  had  been  attended  with  so  much  excitement  that 
almost  all  current  minds  were  notably  colored  by  it.  It 
was  terrific.  There  were  many  meetings,  public  and 

5  121 


THE    FINANCIER 

stirring,  and  riots;  the  arrival  of  John  Brown's  body;  the 
arrival  of  Lincoln,  the  great  commoner,  on  his  way  from 
Springfield,  Illinois,  to  Washington  via  Philadelphia,  to 
take  the  oath  of  office ;  the  battle  of  Bull  Run ;  the  battle 
of  Vicksburg;  the  battle  of  Gettysburg,  and  so  on. 
Cowperwood  saw  Lincoln.  One  day  the  great  war 
President  spoke  at  Independence  Hall  before  his  inau 
guration — a  tall,  shambling  man,  bony,  gawky,  but  tre 
mendously  impressive.  He  (Cowperwood)  was  only 
twenty-five  at  the  time,  a  cool,  determined  youth,  who 
thought  the  slave  agitation  might  be  well  founded  in 
human  rights — no  doubt  was — but  exceedingly  dangerous 
to  trade.  He  hoped  they  would  win;  but  it  might  go 
hard  with  him  personally  and  other  financiers.  He  did 
not  care  to  fight.  That  seemed  silly  for  the  individual 
man  to  do.  Others  might  go — there  were  many  poor, 
thin-minded,  half-baked  creatures  who  would  put  them 
selves  up  to  be  shot;  but  they  were  only  fit  to  be  com 
manded  or  shot  down.  As  for  him,  his  life  was  sacred 
to  himself  and  his  family  and  his  personal  interests.  He 
recalled  seeing,  one  day,  in  one  of  the  quiet  side  streets, 
as  the  working-men  were  coming  home  from  their  work, 
a  small  enlisting  squad  of  soldiers  in  blue  marching  en 
thusiastically  along,  the  Union  flag  flying,  the  drummers 
drumming,  the  fifes  blowing,  the  idea  being,  of  course,  to 
so  impress  the  hitherto  indifferent  or  wavering  citizen, 
to  exalt  him  to  such  a  pitch,  that  he  would  lose  his  sense 
of  proportion,  or  self-interest,  and,  forgetting  all — wife, 
parents,  home,  and  children — and  seeing  the  great  need 
of  the  country,  fall  in  behind  and  enlist.  He  saw  one 
working-man  swinging  his  pail,  and  evidently  not  con 
templating  any  such  denouement  to  his  day's  work, 
pause,  listen  as  the  squad  approached,  hesitate  as  it 
drew  close,  and  as  it  passed,  with  a  peculiar  look  of 'un 
certainty  or  wonder  in  his  eyes,  fall  in  behind  and  march 
solemnly  away  to  the  enlisting  quarters.  What  was 
it  that  had  caught  this  man?  Frank  asked  himself. 

122  • 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

How  was  he  overcome  so  easily?  He  had  not  intended 
to  go.  His  face  was  streaked  with  the  grease  and  dirt 
of  his  work — he  looked  like  a  foundry  man  or  machinist, 
say  twenty-five  years  of  age.  Frank  watched  the  little 
squad  disappear  at  the  end  of  the  street  round  the  corner 
under  the  trees.  Other  people  were  staring.  Windows  had 
opened,  residents  had  come  out.  There  were  other  men 
who  had  fallen  in.  There  were  expressions  of  patriotic 
devotion  here  and  there. 

"The  South  '11  have  enough  of  this  thing  before  it's 
through,"  one  quiet-looking  citizen,  a  man  with  a  Michel 
angelo  expression — the  full-bearded  face  and  solemn 
eyes — observed  to  him — that  intensity  of  spirit  that  comes 
only  with  a  great  emotion  shining  in  his  eyes. 

"Yes,  I  think  so,"  replied  Cowperwood,  conservatively. 

He  drew  away  still  pondering.  This  current  war-spirit 
was  strange.  The  people  seemed  to  him  to  want  to  hear 
nothing  but  the  sound  of  the  drum  and  fife,  to  see  nothing 
but  troops,  of  which  there  were  thousands  now  passing 
through  on  their  way  to  the  front,  carrying  cold  steel  in 
the  shape  of  guns  at  their  shoulders,  to  hear  of  war  and 
the  rumors  of  war.  It  was  a  noble  sentiment,  no  doubt, 
great  but  unprofitable.  It  meant  self-sacrifice,  and  he 
could  not  see  that.  If  he  went  he  might  be  shot,  and  what 
would  his  noble  emotion  amount  to  then?  No  doubt,  this 
war  was  a  great  thing ;  but  he  was  not  a  soldier.  He  would 
rather  make  money,  regulate  current  political,  social,  and 
financial  affairs.  The  poor  fool  who  fell  in  behind  the 
enlisting  squad — no,  not  fool,  he  would  not  call  him  that — 
the  poor  overwrought  working-man — well,  Heaven  pity 
him!  Heaven  pity  all  of  them!  They  really  did  not 
know  what  they  were  doing. 

It  was  a  raw,  slushy  morning  of  a  late  February  day; 
Lincoln,  the  great  war  President,  was  just  through  with 
his  solemn  pronunciamento  in  regard  to  the  bonds  that 
might  have  been  strained  but  must  not  be  broken.  His 
face,  as  he  issued  from  the  doorway  of  the  famous  birth- 

123 


THE    FINANCIER 

place  of  liberty,  in  spite  of  the  applause  and  enthusiasm 
created  by  his  presence,  was  set  in  a  sad,  meditative  calm. 
Cowperwood,  passing  by  on  the  other  side  of  the  street, 
detained  temporarily  by  the  crowd  and  the  curiosity  in 
himself  that  the  occasion  prompted,  saw  the  great,  tall, 
shambling  figure,  and  was  interested  in  spite  of  himself. 
He  looked  at  him  fixedly  as  he  issued  from  the  doorway 
surrounded  by  chiefs  of  staff,  local  dignitaries,  detectives, 
and  the  curious,  sympathetic  faces  of  the  public.  As  he 
studied  the  strangely  rough-hewn  countenance  a  sense 
of  great  worth  and  dignity  came  over  him. 

"A  real  man,  that,"  he  thought;  "a  wonderful  tempera 
ment."  He  could  not  explain  why  the  singular  appear 
ance  of  the  statesman  appealed  to  him  so,  but  his  every 
gesture  came  upon  him  with  great  force.  He  watched 
him  enter  his  carriage,  thinking  "So  that  is  the  rail- 
splitter,  the  country  lawyer.  Well,  fate  has  picked  a 
great  man  for  this  crisis." 

For  days  the  face  of  the  man  haunted  him,  and  then, 
through  all  the  years  of  the  war  until  Lincoln's  assassina 
tion,  he  had  nothing  but  good  to  think  of  this  singular 
figure.  It  seemed  to  him  unquestionable  that  fortui 
tously  he  had  been  permitted  to  look  upon  one  of  the 
world's  really  great  men.  War  and  statesmanship  were 
not  for  him ;  but  now  he  knew  how  important  those  things 
were — at  times. 


CHAPTER  XII 

IT  was  while  the  war  was  on,  and  after  it  was  perfectly 
plain  that  it  was  not  to  be  of  a  few  days'  duration, 
that  his  first  great  financial  opportunity  came  to  him. 
There  was  a  strong  demand  for  money  at  this  time  on 
the  part  of  the  nation,  the  State,  and  the  city.  In  July, 
1 86 1,  Congress  had  authorized  a  loan  of  fifty  million  dol 
lars,  to  be  secured  by  twenty-year  bonds  with  interest 
not  to  exceed  seven  per  cent.,  and  the  State  authorized 
a  loan  of  three  millions  on  much  the  same  security,  the 
first  being  handled  by  financiers  of  Boston,  New  York, 
and  Philadelphia,  the  second  by  Philadelphia  financiers 
alone.  Cowperwood  had  no  hand  in  this.  He  was  not 
big  enough.  He  read  in  the  papers  of  gatherings  of  men 
whom  he  knew  personally  or  by  reputation,  "to  consider 
the  best  way  to  aid  the  nation  or  the  State";  but  he  was 
not  included.  He  was  as  yet  a  mere  financial  spectator. 
And  yet  his  soul  yearned  to  be  of  them.  These  great 
financiers  who  worked  in  the  street,  how  he  envied  their 
reputations!  They  walked  so  defiantly,  so  freely.  The 
papers  spoke  of  them  so  respectfully,  fawning.  He  was 
a  mere  note  and  stock  broker;  but  he  knew  how  these 
tricks  were  turned.  Money  was  the  first  thing  to  have — 
a  lot  of  it.  Then  the  reputation  of  handling  it  wisely 
would  treble,  quadruple,  aye,  increase  its  significance  a 
hundred  and  a  thousand  fold.  First  you  secured  the 
money.  Then  you  secured  the  reputation.  The  two 
things'  were  like  two  legs  on  which  you  walked.  Then 
your  mere  word  was  as  good  as  money,  or  better.  It 
would  unlock  the  doors  to  endless  treasures.  He  noticed 
how  often  a  rich  man's  word  sufficed — no  money,  no 

125 


THE    FINANCIER 

certificates,  no  collateral,  no  anything — just  his  word. 
If  Drexel  &  Co.,  or  Jay  Cooke  &  Co.,  or  Gould  & 
Fiske  were  rumored  to  be  behind  anything,  how  secure  it 
was!  The  thought  in  these  cases  was  as  good  as  the  deed. 
Jay  Cooke,  a  young  man  in  Philadelphia,  had  made  a 
great  strike  taking  this  State  loan  in  company  with 
Drexel  &  Co.,  and  selling  it  at  par.  The  general  opinion 
was  that  it  ought  to  be  and  could  only  be  sold  at  ninety. 
Cooke  did  not  believe  this.  He  believed  that  State  pride 
and  State  patriotism  would  warrant  offering  the  loan 
to  small  banks  and  private  citizens,  and  that  they  would 
subscribe  it  fully  and  more.  Cowperwood,  reading  of  the 
situation  in  the  financial  column  of  the  papers,  had 
fancied  that  Cooke  was  right;  but  he  was  not  sure. 
Events  justified  Cooke  magnificently,  and  his  public  rep 
utation  was  assured.  Cowperwood  wished  he  could  make 
some  such  strike;  but  he  was  too  practical  to  worry  over 
anything  save  the  facts  and  conditions  that  were  be 
fore  him. 

His  chance  came  about  six  months  later,  when  it  was 
found  that  the  State  would  have  to  have  much  more 
money.  The  State's  quota  of  troops  would  have  to  be 
equipped  and  paid.  There  were  measures  of  defense  to 
be  taken,  the  treasury  to  be  replenished.  A  call  for  a 
loan  of  twenty-three  million  dollars  was  finally  author 
ized  by  the  legislature  and  issued.  There  was  great  talk 
in  the  street  as  to  who  was  to  get  it,  handle  it — Drexel  & 
Co.  and  Jay  Cooke  &  Co.,  of  course. 

Cowperwood  pondered  over  this.  He  had  thought 
much  over  this  matter  of  disposing  of  loans.  It  was  not 
so  much  of  a  trick.  His  note-brokerage  business  was 
quite  the  same  thing  in  a  smaller  way.  A  firm  or  small 
corporation  (sound,  of  course)  needed  money.  It  issued 
its  promise  to  pay  in  the  shape  of  notes  bearing  six  per 
cent,  interest,  and  he  sold  or  placed  them  with  other 
people  for  cash  and  pocketed  his  commission.  There  was 
no  difference  between  this  and  the  larger  transaction.  If 

126 


THE    FINANCIER 

he  could  handle  a  fraction  of  this  great  loan  now — he 
could  not  possibly  handle  the  whole  of  it,  for  he  had  not 
the  necessary  connections — he  could  add  considerably  to 
his  reputation  as  a  broker  while  making  a  tidy  sum. 
How  much  could  he  handle  ?  That  was  the  question.  Who 
would  take  portions  of  it ?  His  father's  bank?  Probably. 
Waterman  &  Co.?  A  little.  Judge  Kitchen?  A  small 
fraction.  The  Mills-David  Company  ?  Yes.  He  thought 
of  different  individuals  and  concerns  who,  for  one 
reason  and  another — personal  friendship,  good-nature, 
gratitude  for  past  favors,  and  so  on — would  take  a  per 
centage  of  the  seven-per-cent.  bonds  through  him.  He 
totaled  up  his  possibilities,  and  discovered  that  in  all 
likelihood,  with  a  little  preliminary  missionary  work,  he 
could  dispose  of  one  million  dollars  if  personal  influence, 
through  local  political  figures,  could  bring  this  much  of 
the  loan  his  way.  He  had  learned,  as  Tighe  had  learned, 
that  personal  connections  were  almost  the  be-all  and  the 
end-all  in  finance.  Some  time  since  he  had  begun  to  give 
great  attention  to  this  matter,  and  now  he  had  some 
significant  connections — councilmen,  city  officers,  con 
tractors,  who  knew  of  him,  and  who  sometimes  came  to 
him  with  stock-jobbing  propositions. 

One  man  in  particular  had  grown  strong  in  his  estima 
tion  as  having  some  subtle  political  connection  not  visible 
on  the  surface,  and  this  was  Edward  Malia  Butler,  a 
contractor  by  business  or  profession,  who  drifted  across 
Cowperwood's  path  in  a  peculiar  way.  Butler  was  a 
contractor,  undertaking  the  construction  of  sewers,  water- 
mains,  foundations  for  buildings,  street-paving,  and  the 
like.  In  the  early  days,  long  before  Cowperwood  had 
known  him,  he  had  been  a  slop-contractor  or  dealer  on 
his  own  account.  That  sounds  strange,  perhaps.  The 
city  had  no  extended  street-cleaning  service,  particularly 
in  its  outlying  sections  and  some  of  the  older,  poorer 
regions.  A  slop-man,  a  man  who  could  come  with  a 
great  wagon  filled  with  barrels  and  haul  away  the  slops 

127 


THE    FI  NANCI  ER 

from  your  back  door,  was  absolutely  essential.  Edward 
Butler,  having  a  few  cows  and  pigs,  and  being  a  poor 
Irishman,  had  originally,  when  he  was  twenty-five  years 
of  age,  collected  slops,  in  a  tumble -down  wagon  filled 
with  barrels  to  hold  them,  from  his  neighbors,  and  had 
fed  the  slops  to  his  pigs  and  cattle,  charging  at  first 
nothing  for  the  service.  Later  he  discovered  that  not 
only  the  profitable  selling  of  milk  and  pigs'  meat  re 
sulted  from  this,  but  that  some  people — the  better-to- 
do,  who  had  the  most  slops — were  willing  to  pay  a  small 
charge.  Then  a  local  political  character,  a  councilman 
living  in  his  vicinity  and  a  friend  of  his — they  were 
both  Catholics — saw  a  new  point  in  the  whole  thing. 
Butler  could  be  made  official  swill-collector.  The  council 
could  vote  an  annual  appropriation  for  this  service. 
Butler  could  employ  many  more  wagons  than  he  did  now 
— dozens  of  them,  scores.  (He  had  only  six,  and  had 
gone  into  the  soap  business  in  a  small  way,  because  the 
rendering  of  some  slops,  as  he  had  found,  yielded  soap- 
fat.)  Not  only  that,  but  no  other  slop-collector  would 
be  allowed.  There  were  others,  but  the  official  contract 
awarded  him  would  also,  officially,  end  the  life  of  any  and 
every  disturbing  rival.  Councilman  Comiskey — Patrick 
Gavin  Comiskey — undertook  through  a  group  of  asso 
ciates  with  whom  he  worked  to  bring  this  about.  He  and 
Butler  were  to  go  into  the  slop-contracting  business  to 
gether.  A  certain  amount  of  the  profitable  proceeds 
would  have  to  be  set  aside  to  assuage  the  feelings  of  those 
who  were  not  contractors.  Funds  would  have  to  be  loaned 
at  election  time  to  certain  individuals  and  organizations; 
but  no  matter.  The  amount  would  be  small.  Mr. 
Butler  saw  a  light.  He  and  Mr.  Comiskey  (the  latter 
silently)  entered  into  business  relations.  Mr.  Butler 
gave  up  driving  a  wagon  himself.  He  was  no  longer  seen 
carrying  buckets  of  slops  around  the  sides  of  houses  from 
their  back  doors  in  his  once  conspicuous  and,  in  a  way, 
flaunted  red  shirt.  He  hired  a  young  man,  a  smart  Irish 

128 


THE    FINANCIER 

boy  of  his  neighborhood,  Jimmy  Sheehan,  to  be  his 
assistant,  superintendent,  stableman,  bookkeeper,  and 
what  not.  Since  he  began  to  make  between  four  and 
five  thousand  a  year,  where  before  he  made  two  thousand, 
he  moved  into  a  nice  brick  house  in  an  outlying  section 
of  the  south  side,  and  sent  his  children  to  school.  Mrs. 
Butler  gave  up  making  soap  and  feeding  pigs  for  house 
work.  And  since  then  times  had  been  exceedingly  good 
with  Edward  Butler. 

He  could  neither  read  nor  write  at  first;  but  now  he 
knew  how,  of  course.  He  had  learned  from  association 
with  Mr.  Comiskey  that  there  were  other  forms  of  con 
tracting.  The  slop-contracting  business  could  not  en 
dure;  it  had  to  give  way  to  sewers,  water-mains,  gas- 
mains,  street-paving,  and  the  like.  Who  better  than 
Edward  Butler  to  do  it?  He  knew  the  councilmen, 
many  of  them.  He  had  met  them  in  the  back  rooms  of 
saloons,  on  Sundays  and  Saturdays  at  political  picnics,  at 
election  councils  and  conferences,  for  as  a  beneficiary 
of  the  city's  largess  he  was  expected  to  contribute  not 
only  money,  but  advice.  Curiously  he  had  developed  a 
strange  political  wisdom.  He  knew  a  successful  man  or 
a  coming  man  when  he  saw  one.  So  many  of  his  book 
keepers,  superintendents,  time-keepers,  and  so  on  gradu 
ated  into  councilmen  and  State  legislators.  His  nominees 
— suggested  to  political  conferences — were  so  often  known 
to  make  good.  They  were  never  silly  or  light-headed, 
but  cautious  and  conservative;  and  he  could,  on  occasion, 
talk  to  them  like  a  Dutch  uncle.  If  a  man  went  wrong 
(against  the  local  political  wisdom  of  the  hour)  or  proved 
ungrateful,  it  was  usually  thought  that  Butler's  men 
had  nothing  to  do  with  it,  and  they  had  not.  First  he 
came  to  have  influence  in  his  councilman's  ward,  then  in 
his  legislative  district,  then  in  the  city  councils  of  his 
party — Whig,  of  course — and  then  he  was  supposed  to 
have  an  organization. 

Mysterious  forces  worked  for  him  in  council.  He  was 
129 


THE    FINANCIER 

awarded  significant  contracts,  and  he  always  bid.  The 
slop  business  was  now  a  thing  of  the  past.  His  eldest 
boy,  Owen,  was  a  member  of  the  State  legislature,  and 
a  partner  in  his  business  affairs.  His  second  son,  Callum, 
was  a  clerk  in  the  city  water  department,  and  an  assist 
ant  to  his  father  also.  Aileen,  his  eldest  daughter,  fifteen 
years  of  age,  was  still  in  a  convent  school,  St.  Agatha's, 
at  Germantown.  Norah,  his  second  daughter  and  young 
est  child,  thirteen  years  of  age,  was  in  attendance  at  a 
local  private  school  conducted  by  a  Catholic  sisterhood. 
The  Butler  family  had  moved  away  from  South  Phila 
delphia  into  Girard  Avenue,  near  the  twelve  hundreds, 
where  a  new,  expensive,  and  rather  interesting  social  life 
was  beginning.  They  were  not  of  it ;  but  Edward  Butler, 
contractor,  now  sixty  years  of  age,  worth,  say,  five  hundred 
thousand  dollars,  had  many  political  and  financial  friends. 
He  was  not  a  "rough-neck"  any  more.  He  was- a  solid, 
reddish-faced  man,  slightly  tanned,  with  broad  shoulders, 
a  solid  chest,  gray  eyes,  gray  hair,  a  typically  Irish  face 
made  wise  and  calm  and  undecipherable  by  much  ex 
perience.  His  big  hands  and  feet  showed  a  day  when 
he  did  not  wear  the  best  English  cloth  suits  and  tanned 
leather;  but  his  presence  was  not  in  any  way  offensive — 
rather  the  other  way  about.  Though  still  possessed  of 
a  brogue,  he  was  soft-spoken,  winning,  and  persuasive. 

The  presence  of  Edward  Malia  Butler  in  Third  Street 
was  due  to  street-cars.  Years  before,  when  he  was  a  slop- 
collector,  he  had  thought  of  some  day  becoming  a  'bus 
owner  and  driver,  but  other  and  more  brilliant  things  had 
intervened.  Since  then — but  comparatively  recently  at 
that — he  had  watched  the  development  of  this  street-car 
business  and  had  come  to  the  conclusion,  as  had  Cowper- 
wood  and  many  others,  that  it  was  going  to  be  a  great 
thing.  The  money  returns  on  the  stocks  or  shares  he 
had  been  induced  to  buy  had  been  ample  evidence  of 
that.  He  had  dealt  through  one  broker  and  another, 
having  failed,  because  of  his  other  interests,  to  get  in  on 

130 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

the  original  corporate  organizations.  He  wanted  to  pick 
up  such  stock  as  he  could  in  one  organization  and  another, 
for  he  believed  that  they  all  had  a  future;  and  most  of  all, 
he  wanted  to  get  control  of  a  line  or  two.  Both  Owen  and 
Callum  were  evincing  considerable  executive  ability  in 
his  private  schemes.  They  were  not  ne'er-do-wells,  but 
they  were  too  young.  His  contracting  business,  he  could 
see,  depended  very  largely  on  his  political  tact  and  wis 
dom,  on  making  under-the-surf ace  deals ;  but  neither  Owen 
nor  Callum  was  such  a  politician  as  he.  A  street-railway 
or  two,  well  managed,  would  give  them  a  fixed  position  in 
life.  The  business  was  young.  They  could  be  respective 
ly  president  and  vice-president  or  general  manager.  He 
could  see  them  safely  placed  before  he  died.  He  did  not 
want  any  shrewd  broker  in  his  affairs,  running  from  one 
concern  to  another  making  deals  and  altering  plans  at 
his  expense.  He  wanted  to  find  some  reliable  young 
man,  honest  and  capable,  who  would  work  under  his 
direction  and  do  what  he  said.  By  dint  of  visiting  and 
asking  in  a  roundabout  way  he  learned  of  Cowperwood, 
and  one  day  sent  for  him  and  asked  him  to  call  at  his 
house.  Cowperwood  responded  quickly,  for  he  knew  of 
Butler,  his  rise,  his  connections,  his  force.  He  welcomed 
this  idea  of  working  for  him,  however  it  might  be,  for  he 
surmised  at  once  that  it  might  mean  political  connections. 
Tighe  had  them.  Many  of  the  big  bankers  and  brokers 
had  them.  There  were  lots  of  politicians  drifting  through 
the  street  for  one  purpose  and  another.  He  called  as 
Mr.  Butler  directed,  one  cold,  crisp  February  morning, 
at  his  house.  He  remembered  the  appearance  of  the 
street  afterward  —  broad,  brick -paved  as  to  sidewalks, 
macadamized  as  to  roadway,  powdered  over  with  a  light, 
cold  snow  and  set  with  young,  leafless,  scrubby  trees  and 
lamp-posts.  Mr.  Butler's  house  was  not  new — he  had 
bought  and  repaired  it — but  it  was  not  an  unsatisfactory 
specimen  of  the  architecture  of  the  time.  It  was  fifty 
feet  wide,  four  stories  tall,  of  graystone,  and  with  four 


THE    FINANCIER 

wide,  white  stone  steps  leading  up  to  the  door.  The 
window  arches,  framed  in  white,  had  U-shaped  keystones. 
He  noticed  the  curtains  of  lace  and  a  glimpse  of  red  plush 
through  the  windows,  which  gleamed  warm  against  the 
cold  and  snow  outside.  A  trim  Irish  maid  came  to  the 
door. 

"Is  Mr.  Butler  here?" 

"I'm  not  sure,  sir.  I'll  find  out.  He  may  have  gone 
out.  Who  shall  I  say?" 

Mr.  Cowperwood  had  his  card  ready,  and  gave  it  to 
her. 

She  invited  him  in  and  disappeared.  In  a  little  while 
he  was  asked  to  come  up-stairs,  where  he  found  Mr. 
Butler  in  a  somewhat  commercial-looking  front  room.  It 
had  a  desk,  an  office  chair,  some  leather  furnishings,  and 
a  book-case,  but  no  completeness  or  symmetry  as  either 
an  office  or  a  home  room.  There  were  several  pictures 
on  the  wall — an  impossible  oil-painting  for  one  thing, 
dark  and  gloomy;  a  canal  and  barge  scene  in  pink  and 
nile  green  for  another;  some  daguerreotypes  of  relatives 
and  friends  which  were  not  half  had.  Cowperwood  noticed 
one  of  two  girls,  one  with  reddish-gold  hair,  another  with 
what  appeared  to  be  silky  brown.  The  beautiful  silver 
effect  of  the  daguerreotype  had  been  tinted.  They  were 
pretty  girls,  healthy,  smiling,  Celtic,  their  young  heads 
close  together,  their  eyes  looking  straight  out  at  you. 
He  admired  them  casually,  and  fancied  they  must  be 
Butler's  daughters. 

"Mr.  Cowperwood?"  spoke  Mr.  Butler,  turning  his 
round,  solid  face  on  him  and  uttering  the  name  fully 
with  a  peculiar  accent  on  the  vowels  (he  was  a  slow- 
moving  man,  solemn  and  deliberate).  Cowperwood 
noticed  that  his  body  was  hale  and  strong  like  seasoned 
hickory,  tanned  by  wind  and  rain.  The  flesh  of  his 
cheeks  was  pulled  taut,  and  there  was  nothing  either  soft; 
or  flabby  about  him. 

"  I'm  that  man," 

132 


THE    FINANCIER 

"I  have  a  little  matter  of  stocks  to  talk  over  with 
you"  (the  "matter"  almost  sounded  like  "mather"), 
"and  I  thought  you'd  better  come  here  rather  than  that 
I  should  come  down  to  your  office.  We  can  be  more 
private-like,  and,  besides,  I'm  not  as  young  as  I  used 
to  be." 

He  allowed  a  semi-twinkle  to  rest  in  his  eye  as  he  looked 
his  visitor  over. 

Cowperwood  smiled. 

"Well,  I  hope  I  can  be  of  service  to  you,"  he  said, 
genially. 

"I  happen  to  be  interested  just  at  present  in  pickin' 
up  certain  street-railway  stocks  on  'change.  I'll  tell  you 
about  them  later.  Won't  you  have  some  thin'  to  drink? 
It's  a  cold  morning." 

"No,  thanks;  I  never  drink." 

" Never?  That's  a  hard  word  when  it  comes  to  whisky. 
Well,  no  matter.  It's  a  good  rule.  My  boys  don't 
touch  anything,  and  I'm  glad  of  it.  As  I  say,  I'm  in 
terested  in  pickin'  up  a  few  stocks  on  'change;  but,  to 
tell  you  the  truth,  I'm  more  interested  in  findin'  some 
clever  young  felly  like  yourself  through  whom  I  can 
work.  One  thing  leads  to  another,  you  know,  in  this 
world."  And  he  looked  at  his  visitor  non-committally, 
and  yet  with  a  genial  show  of  interest. 

"Quite  so,"  replied  Cowperwood,  with  a  friendly  gleam, 
in  return. 

"Well,"  Butler  meditated,  half  to  himself,  half  to  Cow 
perwood,  whose  presence  for  the  moment  he  ignored, 
"there  are  a  number  of  things  that  a  bright  young  man 
could  do  for  me  in  the  street  if  he  were  so  minded.  I 
have  two  bright  boys  of  my  own,  but  I  don't  want  them 
to  become  stock-gamblers,  and  I  don't  know  that  they 
would  or  could  if  I  wanted  them  to.  But  this  isn't  a 
matter  of  stock-gambling.  I'm  pretty  busy  as  it  is,  and, 
as  I  said  awhile  ago,  I'm  getting  along.  I'm  not  as  light 
on  my  toes  as  I  once  was.  But  if  I  had  the  right  sort  of 

133 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

a  young  man— I've  been  looking  into  your  record,  by  the 
way,  never  fear — he  might  handle  a  number  of  little 
things — investments  and  loans — which  might  bring  us 
each  a  little  some  thin'.  Sometimes  the  young  men 
around  town  ask  advice  of  me  in  one  way  and  another — 
they  have  a  little  some  thin'  to  invest,  and  so — 

He  paused  and  looked  tantalizingly  out  of  the  window, 
knowing  full  well  Cowperwood  was  greatly  interested, 
and  that  this  talk  of  political  influence  and  connections 
could  only  whet  his  appetite.  Butler  wanted  him  to  see 
clearly  that  fidelity  was  the  point  in  this  case — fidelity, 
tact,  subtlety,  and  concealment.  A  young  man  with  real 
tact  and  fidelity  would  be  well  rewarded.  Another  with 
out  it  would  not  get  so  much  as  a  moment's  consideration. 

"Well,  if  you  have  been  looking  into  my  record,"  ob 
served  Cowperwood,  with  his  own  elusive  smile,  leaving 
the  thought  suspended. 

Mr.  Butler  felt  the  force  of  the  temperament  and  the 
argument.  He  liked  the  young  man's  poise  and  balance. 
A  number  of  people  had  spoken  of  Cowperwood  to  him. 
It  was  now  Cowperwood  &  Co.  The  company  was  fic 
tion  purely.  He  asked  him  something  about  the  street; 
how  the  market  was  running ;  what  he  knew  about  street- 
railways.  Finally  he  outlined  his  plan  of  buying  all  he 
could  of  the  stock  of  the  two  given  lines — the  Ninth 
and  Tenth  and  the  Fifteenth  and  Sixteenth  —  without 
attracting  any  attention,  if  possible.  It  was  to  be  done 
slowly,  part  on  'change,  part  from  individual  holders. 
He  did  not  tell  him  that  there  was  certain  legislative 
pressure  he  hoped  to  bring  to  bear  to  give  him  franchises 
for  extensions  in  the  regions  beyond  where  the  lines  now 
ended,  in  order  that  when  the  time  came  for  them  to 
extend  their  facilities  they  would  have  to  see  him  or 
his  sons,  who  might  be  large  minority  stockholders  in 
these  very  concerns.  It  was  a  far-sighted  plan,  and 
meant  that  the  lines  would  eventually  drop  in  his  or  his 
sons'  basket. 

134 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

"I'll  be  delighted  to  work  with  you,  Mr.  Butler,  in 
any  way  that  you  may  suggest,"  observed  Cowperwood. 
"I  can't  say  that  I  have  so  much  of  a  business  as  yet — 
merely  prospects.  My  connections  are  good.  I  have 
had  experience  on  'change.  I  am  now  a  member  of  the 
New  York  and  Philadelphia  exchanges.  Those  who  have 
dealt  with  me  seem  to  like  the  results  I  get.  You  can 
take  any  set  of  men  among  those  who  know  me  you 
choose  and  look  me  up.  I'd  rather  you  would." 

"I  know  a  little  something  about  you  already,"  re 
iterated  Butler,  wisely. 

"Very  well,  then;  whenever  you  have  a  commission 
you  can  call  at  my  office  or  write,  or  I  will  call  here.  I 
will  give  you  my  secret  operating  code,  so  that  anything 
you  say  will  be  strictly  confidential." 

"Well,  we'll  not  say  anything  more  now.  In  a  few 
days  I'll  have  somethin'  for  you.  When  I  do,  you  can 
draw  on  my  bank  for  what  you  need,  up  to  a  certain 
amount." 

He  got  up  and  looked  out  into  the  street,  and  Cowper 
wood  also  arose. 

"It's  a  fine  day  now,  isn't  it?" 

"It  surely  is." 

"Well,  we'll  know  each  other  better." 

He  held  out  his  hand. 

"I  hope  so." 

Cowperwood  went  out,  and  Butler  accompanied  him 
to  the  door.  As  he  did  so  a  young  girl  bounded  in  from 
the  street,  red-cheeked,  blue-eyed,  wearing  a  scarlet  cape 
with  the  peaked  hood  thrown  over  her  red-gold  hair. 

"Oh,  daddy,  I  almost  knocked  you  down." 

She  gave  her  father,  and  incidentally  Cowperwood,  a 
gleaming,  radiant,  inclusive  smile.  Her  teeth  were  bright 
and  small,  and  her  lips  bud-red. 

"You're  home  early.  I  thought  you  were  going  to 
stay  all  day?" 

"I  was,  but  I  changed  my  mind." 

135 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

She  passed  on  in  swinging  her  arms. 

"Yes,  well —  '  Butler  continued,  when  she  had  gone. 
"Then  how  will  later  do?  We'll  leave  it  for  a  day  or 
two.  Good  day." 

"Good  day." 

Cowperwood,  warm  with  this  enhancing  of  his  financial 
prospects,  went  down  the  steps;  but  incidentally  he 
spared  a  passing  thought  for  the  gay  spirit  of  youth  that 
had  manifested  itself  in  this  red-cheeked  maiden.  What 
a  bright,  healthy,  bounding  girl!  Her  voice  had  the 
subtle,  vigorous  ring  of  fifteen  or  sixteen.  She  was  all 
vitality.  Some  young  fellow  would  make  a  fine  catch 
of  her  some  day,  and  her  father  would  make  him  rich, 
no  doubt,  or  help  to. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

IT  was  to  Edward  Malia  Butler  that  Cowperwood's 
thoughts  turned  now,  some  nineteen  months  later, 
when  he  was  thinking  of  the  influence  that  might  bring 
him  an  award  of  a  portion  of  the  State  issue  of  bonds. 
Butler  would  probably  be  interested  to  take  some  of 
those  himself,  or  could  help  him  place  some.  He  had 
come  to  like  Cowperwood  very  much,  and  to  trust  him, 
which  was  better  yet.  Butler  was  now  being  carried  on 
Cowperwood's  books  as  a  prospective  purchaser  of  large 
blocks  of  three  different  stocks,  and  Cowperwood  had 
only  to  send  a  certificate  of  purchase  to  Butler's  personal 
bank  in  order  to  get  the  money  for  what  he  had  agreed 
to  buy.  The  stocks  would  then  be  delivered  at  leisure. 
In  addition,  there  were  a  number  of  city  officials  who  were 
now  beginning  to  come  to  him,  advised  or  lured  by  some 
subtle  suggestion  dropped  by  Butler.  Cowperwood  had 
been  visited  by  the  county  sheriff,  who  had  a  little 
money  to  invest  on  margin,  and  who  knew,  per  advice 
of  others,  what  stock  he  was  to  buy.  There  came,  also, 
the  assessor  of  taxes,  Orville  Clark,  large  sums  of  whose 
collections  were  deposited  in  various  city  banks  without 
interest,  and  who  was  using  some  money — possibly  his 
own,  but  not  probably — to  carry  certain  stocks  for  a  rise. 
In  due  time  arrived  Councilmen  Dale  and  Semperich, 
fine  specimens  of  the  genus  councilman,  eager  to  make  a 
little  money  in  stocks,  and  not  very  scrupulous  as  to  how 
they  made  it.  Councilman  Thomas  Dale  was  lean,  slit- 
eyed,  forked  as  to  mustache,  a  little  suspicious  of  every 
body,  black-haired,  narrow-minded,  and  single-minded. 
He  had  but  one  idea,  and  that  was  to  get  up  in  the  world 

137 


THE    FINANCIER 

via  money.  Jacob  Semperich  was  a  stout,  rosy  German, 
a  butcher  originally,  not  very  clever  in  anything,  but 
let  in  on  certain  deals  because  of  his  councilmanic  vote 
and  his  rubber-stamp-like  subserviency.  They  came  with 
tips  of  their  own,  recommended  by  Sheriff  Pohlmann 
and  Assessor  Clark.  Cowperwood  was  a  little  chary  of 
some  phases  of  his  new  clientele;  but,  seeing  to  what  circle 
they  belonged,  it  was  not  possible  to  ignore  them.  He 
had  to  be  nice.  He  refrained  from  giving  any  save  the 
safest  advice  to  this  small  fry;  but  if  they  had  tips  and 
wished  him  to  carry  out  instructions,  he  could  not  do 
less  than  act  faithfully  in  the  matter.  Brother  Joseph 
was  now  his  floor-man  at  sixty  dollars  a  week.  Brother 
Edward  was  his  inside  office-man  and  alter-ego.  Both 
were  as  faithful  as  it  was  possible  for  men  to  be.  Their 
admiration  for  Brother  Frank  was  unbounded.  It  was 
rather  an  unusual  combination;  but  Cowperwood  was  an 
unusual  man,  and  he  felt  that  he  could  trust  his  brothers. 
He  was  sympathetic  toward  them  without  being  in  any 
way  partial  or  unfair  to  others.  He  had  always  dominated 
them  as  boys;  and  now,  as  a  man,  he  put  them  into  the 
traces  of  his  vehicle  of  success,  without  much  thought 
that  they  were  ever  to  be  anything  more  than  assistants. 
All  these  years  he  had 'felt  that  they  were  not  going  to 
be  as  strong  as  he  was,  and  he  felt  sorry  for  them.  At 
the  same  time  he  felt  that  this  was  as  good  a  way  as  any 
for  them  to  get  their  preliminary  training.  His  father, 
who,  by  the  way,  was  now  vice-president  of  his  bank, 
might  find  something  better  for  them  later  on. 

This  "political  gang,"  as  Brother  Joe  described  them 
to  Brother  Ed,  looked  suspicious  to  both ;  but  Frank  was  a 
strong  man,  and  master  of  his  affairs.  He  kept  a  most 
tactful  attitude,  a  cross  between  keen  interest  and  severe 
impartiality,  which  at  once  won  and  kept  in  their  place 
this  uncertain  and  hungry  crew.  Such  men  as  Assessor 
Clark,  Sheriff  Pohlmann,  State  Senator  Donovan,  and 
others,  to  say  nothing  of  Contractor  Butler,  he  was  only 

138 


THE     FINANCIER 

too  anxious  to  keep.  They  represented  to  him  something 
—he  could  scarcely  say  what — vast  possibilities,  prin 
cipally.  Something  seemed  to  tell  him  that  these  men 
might  be  tremendously  useful  to  him  at  some  time;  and, 
while  not  infringing  in  any  way  on  his  fixed  principles  of 
business,  he  went  as  far  as  he  could  in  being  gracious 
socially  and  commercially.  The  others,  though,  he  ignored, 
using  them  only  as  business  opportunities  in  a  small  way 
— pretending  an  interest  he  did  not  feel. 

It  was  to  Contractor  Butler  that  he  turned  now;  and  in 
this  hour  of  desire  and  hope  the  latter  did  not  fail  him. 

"So  you  wanted  a  portion  of  those  State  bonds  to  sell, 
is  that  it?"  the  latter  asked,  genially,  when  Cowperwood, 
in  response  to  permission  requested,  called  to  see  him  con 
cerning  this  matter.  It  was  in  the  evening.  Spring  was 
coming  on,  but  it  was  early  and  cool.  A  grate-fire  was 
burning  in  Mr.  Butler's  improvised  private  office,  and  he 
was  ensconced  in  a  large,  comfortable  leather  chair. 
"Well  now,  that  isn't  so  easy.  You  ought  to  know  more 
about  that  than  I  do.  I'm  not  a  financier,  as*  you  well 
know."  And  he  grinned  apologetically. 

Cowperwood  smiled. 

"It's  a  matter  of  influence.  I  don't  know  the  political 
ropes  well  enough  to  know  how  this  is  managed.  It's 
largely  a  matter  of  favoritism,  that  I  know.  Drexel  and 
Company  and  Cooke  and  Company  have  connections  at 
Harrisburg.  They  have  men  of  their  own  looking  after 
their  interests.  The  attorney-general  and  the  State 
treasurer  are  hand  in  glove  with  them.  Even  if  I  put  in 
a  bid,  and  can  demonstrate  that  I  can  handle  the  loan, 
it  won't  help  me  to  get  it.  Other  people  have  done  that. 
I  have  to  have  friends — influence.  You  know  how  it  is." 

"Them  things,"  Butler  said,  solemnly,  "is  easy  enough 
if  you  know  the  right  parties  to  approach.  Now  there's 
Jimmy  Oliver,  he  ought  to  know  something  about  that." 
Jimmy  Oliver  was  the  whilom  district  attorney  serving 
at  this  time,  and  incidentally  free  adviser  to  Mr.  Butler 

139 


THE    FINANCIER 

in  many  ways.  He  was  also,  accidentally,  a  warm  per 
sonal  friend  of  the  State  treasurer. 

"How  much  of  the  loan  do  you  want?" 

"Five  million." 

"Five  million!"  Mr.  Butler  sat  up.  "Man,  what 
are  you  talking  about?  Five  million!  That's  a  good 
deal  of  money.  Where  are  you  going  to  sell  all  that?" 

"I  want  to  bid  for  five  million,"  assuaged  Cowperwood, 
softly.  ' '  I  only  want  one  million ;  but  I  want  the  prestige 
of  putting  in  a  bona-fide  bid  for  five  million.  It  will  do 
me  good  on  the  street." 

Mr.  Butler  sank  back  somewhat  relieved. 

"Five  million!  Prestige!  You  want  one  million. 
Well,  now  that's  different.  That's  not  such  a  bad  idea. 
We  ought  to  be  able  to  get  that." 

He  rubbed  his  chin  some  more  and  stared  into  the  fire. 
Cowperwood  liked  his  comforting,  helpful  "we." 

Cowperwood  liked  this  great,  solid  Irishman.  He  liked 
his  history.  He  was  just  democratic  enough  and  practi 
cal-minded  enough  to  like  to  see  such  men  get  along.  He 
had  met  Mrs.  Butler,  a  rather  fat  and  phlegmatic  Irish 
woman,  who  cared  nothing  at  all  for  show,  and  still  liked 
to  go  into  the  kitchen  and  superintend  the  cooking,  but  who 
was  not  without  a  world  of  hard  sense.  She  had  told  her 
husband  that  Cowperwood  was  a  shrewd,  forceful  young 
man.  He  had  met  Owen  and  Callum  Butler,  the  boys, 
and  Aileen  and  Norah,  the  girls.  Aileen  was  the  one  who 
bounded  up  the  steps  the  first  day  he  had  called  on  Mr. 
Butler  several  seasons  before.  He  recalled  her  red  cape 
and  rosy  cheeks.  Since  then  he  had  seen  more  of  her — a 
remarkable  girl  temperamentally,  who  could  play  showily 
and,  in  a  way,  brilliantly  on  the  piano,  and  sing  charming 
ly.  She  was  seventeen  now,  just  verging  into  long  dresses, 
with  a  figure  which  was  subtly  provocative.  Her  manner 
was  boyish,  hoidenish  at  times;  but  there  was  a  softness 
lurking  somewhere  back  in  the  blue  eyes  that  was  not 
hoidenish  entirely,  but  sympathetic  and  human.  She 

140 


THE    FI  NANCIER 

was  terribly  young,  though,  and,  although  convent-trained, 
which  usually  veneers  so  nicely,  inclined  to  refuse  all 
thought  of  restraint.  Her  brothers  quarreled  with  her, 
and  her  father  and  mother  gave  her  sage  advice.  She 
was  subtle,  though,  in  the  bargain,  thinking  her  own 
thoughts  and  wondering  hourly  what  she  should  do  with 
herself. 

Norah,  the  youngest,  was  two  years  younger  than  her 
sister,  and  promised  to  be  interesting  in  another  way.  She 
was  more  quiet  and  reserved;  not  so  daring  as  her  sister. 
Cowperwood  had  studied  them  at  odd  moments  on  his 
visits.  He  had  once  met  Aileen  in  Third  Street  shopping 
with  her  mother.  She  was  alone  at  the  time,  and  he 
paused  to  pass  the  time  of  the  day  with  her. 

"Good  morning,"  he  said,  smilingly.  "It's  nice  to 
see  you.  Isn't  this  a  lovely  day?" 

It  was  bright  and  clear  and  crisp.  The  windows  of 
the  offices  and  banks  were  water-clear  in  the  shade — 
bright  and  refreshing.  The  trucks  and  vehicles  were 
numerous,  crackling  and  brisk. 

"It's  fine,"  she  replied,  with  a  toss  of  her  head.  "I'm 
just  down  with  mother  looking  for  some  birthday  pres 
ents." 

She  reminded  him  of  a  high-stepping  horse  without  a 
check-rein. 

"Your  birthday?"  he  inquired,  archly,  with  a  show  of 
complimentary  interest. 

"No,  a  cousin  of  mine.  We  have  so  many  rela 
tives." 

Her  voice  had  that  affected,  bored  tone  which  young 
girls  love  to  assume  when  they  tliink  they  are  making 
an  impression — the  "Oh,  dear!  Oh,  dear!  life  is  so  tire 
some,  don't  you  know"  tone,  when  as  a  matter  of  fact 
every  moment  and  every  incident  is  of  thrilling  interest 
to  them. 

Cowperwood  understood  her  exactly.  He  had  before 
now  taken  her  mental  measure  as  he  had  that  of  every 

141 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

man  and  every  woman  he  had  ever  encountered.  A  girl 
with  a  high  sense  of  life  in  her,  romantic,  full  of  the  thought 
of  love — the  possibilities  of  joy.  As  he  looked  at  her 
quickly  now — her  very  shapely  young  body,  robust  and 
powerful,  clothed  in  a  full  skirt  of  large,  bright,  black- 
and-white  check  below  a  smooth-fitting  pelisse  of  green 
velvet,  her  little  feet  smoothly  incased  in  jaunty  Balmoral 
boots  of  patent  leather,  her  hands  pulled  tight  in  bright 
lemon-colored  gloves  and  tucked  into  a  tiny  ermine  muff 
just  large  enough  to  hold  them — he  had  the  sense  of  seeing 
the  best  that  Nature  can  do  when  she  attempts  to  produce 
physical  perfection.  Her  throat  was  circled  with  a  stiff 
linen  collar,  her  pocket  decorated  with  a  small  gold  watch, 
and  her  red-gold  hair  surmounted  by  a  "jockey  hat" 
with  a  rolling  brim  and  a  long,  metallic-green  rooster 
feather.  This  girl  was  alive,  he  thought,  fiery.  Al 
ready  she  was  nearing  the  danger  age.  Old  Butler  and 
his  wife  had  better  look  out  for  her  and  marry  her  off. 
He  recalled  hearing  a  shrewd  comment  by  Councilman 
Dale,  talking  to  several  politicians  about  some  other  girl 
in  his  office  one  afternoon,  which  seemed  to  apply  in  this 
case.  It  came  back  to  Cowperwood  now.  "When  a 
high-stepping  girl  that  ought  to  be  wearing  a  check-rein 
and  a  Mexican  bit  gets  so  she  thinks  she  can  drink  booze 
with  the  fellow  that  is  keeping  her  company,  she  needs 
her  mother,  a  spanking,  and  a  life-preserver.  The  first 
glass  of  wine  for  that  kind  of  a  girl,  whether  she's  up  in 
G  or  only  a  working-man's  daughter,  is  right  at  the  top 
of  a  toboggan-chute  that  has  hell  at  the  bottom." 

Councilman  Dale  was  a  coarse  man,  shanty-bred, 
socially  impossible,  and  his  phraseology  was  vile  in  a 
way;  but  it  struck  Cowperwood  as  being  intensely  true, 
nevertheless,  and  Aileen  was  just  this  kind  of  a  girl.  Her 
father  had  hauled  slops.  He  was  rich  now,  and  she  was 
convent-trained;  but — 

"Well,  I  suppose  when  your  birthday  comes  around 
some  one  else  does  the  shopping,  eh?" 

142 


THE    FINANCIER 

"Oh,  they  don't  think  very  much  of  me.  They  don't 
buy  me  very  much  of  anything." 

Her  lips  parted  in  an  arch,  superior,  indifferent  smile. 
She  was  fishing  for  a  compliment,  and  Cowperwood  in 
dulged  her. 

"Fie!  I  know  your  room  looks  like  a  flower-garden, 
then.  When  is  your  birthday?" 

"I'm  a  winter  baby.  I  was  born  in  December  on  the 
shortest  day — the  twenty-first.  Isn't  that  too  bad?" 

"Why,  no;  I  think  that  rather  nice.  It's  distinctive. 
You  aren't  as  dark  and  gloomy  as  that  day  usually  is. 
You  probably  came  to  brighten  it." 

Her  eyes  snapped.  This  man  in  front  of  her  had  the 
nimbleness  of  mind,  the  subtlety  of  gaze,  the  force,  looks, 
fascination  that  she  thought  a  real  man  ought  to  have. 
He  was  strong.  And  she  heard  her  father  and  her  mother 
say  he  was  able.  And  her  father  knew.  She  had  come 
to  think  that  her  father  was  one  of  the  most  wonderful 
men  in  the  world — so  many  compliments  were  paid  her 
for  being  his  daughter. 

"Now  you're  teasing  me.  I  must  be  going.  Good 
morning." 

She  held  out  her  smooth  little  hand,  so  tightly  gloved 
in  yellow  leather. 

"Give  my  regards  to  your  father  and  mother,"  he  said. 

He  looked  after  her  as  she  walked  away — just  a  glance. 
She  was  striding  briskly,  with  a  force,  an  incisiveness,  a 
vigor  which  fascinated  him  in  spite  of  himself.  She  car 
ried  her  head  so  high,  with  so  much  hauteur. 

"Vain  little  piece,"  he  said;  and  yet  he  thought  how 
really  charming  she  was — delightful. 

Well,  he  had  his  own  wife  and  children  now.  Lillian 
was  a  different  type  of  woman.  She  wouldn't  know  how 
to  take  Aileen  Butler  if  she  knew  her — she  hadn't  met  her 
as  yet,  and  if  she  did  she  wouldn't  approve  of  her.  Lillian 
was  too  conservative. and  hourly  becoming  more  so.  She 
wasn't  as  good-looking  as  she  had  formerly  been.  Her 

143 


THE    FINANCIER 

face  was  thinner,  less  artistic.  He  wondered,  in  his  di 
rect  way,  whether  he  should  always  be  faithful  to  her. 
So  far  he  had  been.  But  these  young  women  like  Aileen ! 
Every  now  and  then  he  saw  one  who  took  his  fancy,  and 
they  were  always  gracious  to  him.  He  was  good-looking, 
and  he  had  a  full  intellectuality,  which  they  could  not 
well  resist.  More  than  once  in  dancing  at  different 
places  a  girl  had  squeezed  his  hand  or  said  sweet,  compli 
mentary  things  to  him,  but  he  had  waved  the  matter 
aside.  His  business  interests,  his  two  children,  his  affec 
tion  for  his  wife,  deterred  him.  But  this  Aileen — well, 
she  was  Butler's  daughter,  and  some  lucky  young  dog 
would  marry  her  pretty  soon  and  carry  her  away.  But 
whoever  secured  her  would  have  to  hold  her  by  affection 
and  subtle  flattery  and  attention  if  he  held  her  at  all. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE  days  passed,  and  the  influence  of  Mr.  Butler 
proved  sufficient  to  get  Mr.  Cowperwood  the  award 
he  desired,  for  after  considerable  private  conversation 
between  one  person  and  another  here  and  there  he  was 
introduced  to  City  Treasurer  Julian  Bode,  who  promised 
to  introduce  him  to  State  Treasurer  Van  Nostrand  (Fred 
erick),  and  to  see  that  Mr.  Cowperwood's  claims  to  con 
sideration  were  put  right  before  the  people.  "Of  course, 
you  know,"  he  said  to  Cowperwood,  in  the  presence  of 
Butler,  for  it  was  at  the  latter 's  home  that  the  conference 
took  place,  "this  banking  crowd  is  very  powerful.  You 
know  who  they  are.  They  don't  want  any  interference 
in  this  bond-issue  business.  I  was  talking  to  Terrence 
Relihan,  who  represents  them  up  there" — meaning 
Harrisburg,  the  State  capital — "and  he  says  they  won't 
stand  for  it  at  all.  You  may  have  trouble  right  here  in 
Philadelphia  after  you  get  it — they're  pretty  powerful, 
you  know.  Are  you  sure  just  where  you  can  place  it?" 

"Yes,  I'm  sure,"  replied  Cowperwood. 

"Well,  the  best  thing  in  my  judgment  is  not  to  say 
anything  at  all.  Just  put  in  your  bid.  Van  Nostrand, 
with  the  governor's  approval,  will  make  the  award.  We 
can  fix  the  governor,  I  think.  After  you  get  it  they  may 
talk  to  you  personally;  but  that's  your  business." 

Cowperwood  smiled  his  inscrutable  smile.  There  were 
so  many  ins  and  outs  to  this  financial  life.  It  was  an  end 
less  network  of  underground  holes,  along  which  all  sorts 
of  influences  were  moving.  A  little  wit,  a  little  nimble- 
ness,  a  little  luck — time  and  opportunity — these  sometimes 
availed.  Here  he  was,  through  his  ambition  to  get  on, 

MS 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

and  nothing  else,  coming  into  contact  with  the  State 
treasurer  and  the  governor.  They  were  going  to  con 
sider  his  case  personally,  because  he  demanded  that  it 
be  considered — nothing  more.  Others  more  influential 
than  himself  had  quite  as  much  right  to  a  share,  but  they 
didn't  take  it.  Nerve,  ideas,  aggressiveness,  how  these 
counted  when  one  had  luck!  He  went  away  thinking 
how  surprised  Drexel  &  Co.  and  Cooke  &  Co.  would  be  to 
see  him  appearing  in  the  field  as  a  competitor,  and  he  was 
not  a  distinguished  financier  as  yet  at  all.  He  went  home 
to  his  wife  and  children — for  the  conference  had  been  held 
in  the  evening,  and  in  a  little  office  on  the  second  floor 
next  his  bedroom,  which  he  had  fixed  up  as  a  really- 
truly  office  with  a  desk,  a  safe,  and  a  leather  chair,  he 
consulted  his  resources.  There  were  so  many  things  to 
think  of.  He  went  over  again  the  list  of  people  whom  he 
had  seen  and  whom  he  could  count  on  to  subscribe,  and 
in  so  far  as  that  was  concerned — the  award  of  one  million 
dollars — he  was  safe.  He  figured  to  make  two  per  cent, 
on  the  total  transaction,  or  twenty  thousand  dollars.  If 
he  did  he  was  going  to  buy  a  house  out  on  Girard  Avenue 
beyond  the  Butlers',  or,  better  yet,  buy  a  piece  of  ground 
and  erect  one.  His  father  was  prospering  nicely.  He 
might  want  to  build  a  house  next  to  him,  and  they  could 
live  side  by  side.  His  own  business,  aside  from  this  deal, 
would  yield  him  ten  thousand  dollars  this  year.  His 
street-car  investments,  aggregating  fifty  thousand,  were 
paying  six  per  cent.  His  wife's  property,  represented  by 
this  house,  some  government  bonds,  and  some  real  estate 
in  West  Philadelphia,  was  worth  forty  thousand  more. 
Between  them  they  were  rich;  but  he  expected  to  be  much 
richer.  All  he  needed  now  was  to  keep  cool.  If  he  suc 
ceeded  in  this  bond-issue  matter,  he  could  do  it  again  and 
on  a  larger  scale.  There  would  be  more  issues.  He  turned 
out  his  light  after  a  while  and  went  into  his  wife's  boudoir, 
where  she  was  sleeping.  The  nurse  and  the  children  were 
in  a  room  beyond. 

146 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

"Well,  Lillian,"  he  observed,  when  she  woke  up  and 
turned  over  toward  him,  hearing  the  noise,  "I  think  I  have 
that  bond  matter  that  I  was  telling  you  about  arranged 
at  last.  I  think  I'll  get  a  million  of  it,  anyhow.  That  11 
mean  twenty  thousand.  If  I  do  we'll  build  out  on  Girard 
Avenue.  That's  going  to  be  the  street.  The  college  is 
making  that  neighborhood." 

"That  '11  be  nice,  won't  it,  Frank?"  she  observed,  and 
rubbed  his  arm  as  he  sat  on  the  side  of  the  bed. 

Her  remark  was  vaguely  speculative. 

"We'll  have  to  show  the  Butlers  some  attention.  He's 
been  very  nice  to  me.  He  asked  me  to  bring  you  over 
some  time.  We  must  go.  Be  nice  to  his  wife.  He  can 
do  a  lot  for  me  if  he  wants  to.  He  has  two  daughters,  too. 
We'll  have  to  have  them  over  here." 

"I'll  have  them  to  dinner  right  afterward,"  she  agreed, 
"and  I'll  stop  and  take  Mrs.  Butler  driving  if  she'll  go, 
or  she  can  take  me." 

She  had  already  learned  that  the  Butlers  were  rather 
showy — the  younger  generation,  that  they  were  sensitive 
as  to  their  lineage,  and  that  money  (what  they  could  do 
financially)  was  supposed  to  make  up  for  everything  else. 
"Butler  himself  is  a  very  conservative  man,"  Cowper- 
wood  had  once  remarked  to  her;  "but  Mrs.  Butler — well, 
she's  all  right,  but  she's  a  little  commonplace.  She's  a 
fine  woman,  though,  I  think,  good-natured  and  good- 
hearted."  He  cautioned  her  not  to  overlook  Aileen  and 
Norah,  because  the  Butlers,  mother  and  father,  were  very 
proud  of  them.  "We'll  have  to  have  them  over  here 
now  and  again." 

At  this  time  the  Cowperwoods  had  not  moved  from 
North  Front  Street,  and  because  of  the  superior  size  of 
Butler's  house  and  the  newer  character  of  their  street, 
to  say  nothing  of  Mr.  Butler's  wealth,  the  girls,  as  well 
as  their  mother,  conceived  themselves  to  be  much  su 
perior  to  the  Cowperwoods.  Mrs.  Cowperwood  was  near- 
ing  that  time  of  life  when  women  become  exceedingly 

147 


THE    FINANCIER 

sensitive  as  to  the  outward  and  material  character  of  their 
surroundings.  She  was  no  longer  young.  Cowperwood 
was  twenty-seven,  and  she  was  thirty-two.  The  birth 
and  care  of  two  children  had  made  even  more  difference 
in  her  looks  than  he  had  noted  at  first.  She  was  no  longer 
as  softly  pleasing,  for  all  of  her  height,  but  more  angular. 
Her  face  was  artistically  hollow-cheeked,  like  so  many  of 
Rossetti's  and  Burne- Jones's  women.  Her  health  was 
really  not  quite  so  good;  she  was  a  little  run  down  nerv 
ously,  and  she  suffered  from  fits  of  depression.  Cowper 
wood  had  noticed  this.  It  made  some  difference  in  her 
attractiveness  and  her  charm.  He  tried  to  be  gentle  and 
considerate;  but  he  was  too  much  of  a  utilitarian  and 
practical-minded  observer  not  to  realize  that  he  was  likely 
to  have  a  sickly  wife  on  his  hands  later,  who  would  not 
be  so  pleasing  to  him.  Sympathy  and  affection  were 
great  things;  but  desire  and  charm  must  endure,  or  one 
was  compelled  to  be  sadly  conscious  of  their  loss.  So 
often  now  he  saw  young  girls,  six,  seven,  eight,  and  even 
nine  years  younger  than  himself,  who  were  quite  in  his 
mood,  and  who  were  exceedingly  robust  and  joyous.  It 
was  fine,  advisable,  practical,  to  adhere  to  the  virtues  as 
laid  down  in  the  modern  lexicon  of  happiness;  but  if 
you  had  a  sickly  wife —  Besides,  Lillian  was  narrow. 
Her  greatest  charm  had  been  her  artistic  appearance. 
Life  to  her  meant  meeting  conventionally  with  conven 
tional  people,  talking  over  future  clothes,  trips,  homes, 
marriages,  deaths,  etc.,  all  within  a  strict  pale  of  thought. 
Outside  of  this  was  sounding  a  brilliant  world  which  had 
nothing,  or  little  or  nothing,  to  do  with  these  things.  It 
was  a  dangerous  world,  anything  but  monogamous.  And 
anyhow,  was  a  man  entitled  to  only  one  wife?  Must  he 
never  look  at  any  other  woman?  Supposing  he  found 
some  one?  He  pondered  those  things  between  hours  of 
labor,  and  he  concluded  that  it  did  not  make  so  much 
difference.  If  a  man  could,  and  not  be  exposed,  it  was 
all  right.  He  had  to  be  careful,  though.  To-night,  as  he 

148 


THE    FI  NANCIER 

sat  on  the  side  of  his  wife's  bed,  he  was  thinking  some 
what  of  this,  for  he  had  seen  Aileen  again,  playing  and 
singing  at  her  piano  as  he  passed  the  parlor  door.  She 
was  like  a  bright  luminary  radiating  health  and  en 
thusiasm — a  reminder  of  youth  in  general. 

"It's  a  strange  world,"  he  thought;  but  his  thoughts 
were  his  own,  and  he  didn't  propose  to  tell  any  one  about 
them. 

The  bond  issue,  when  it  came,  was  a  curious  com 
promise;  for,  although  it  netted  him  his  twenty  thousand 
dollars  and  more  and  served  to  introduce  him  to  the 
financial  notice  of  Philadelphia  and  the  State  of  Penn 
sylvania,  it  did  not  permit  him  to  manipulate  the  sub 
scriptions  as  he  had  planned.  The  State  treasurer  was  seen 
by  him  at  the  office  of  a  local  lawyer  of  great  repute, 
where  he  worked  when  in  the  city.  He  was  gracious  to 
Cowperwood,  because,  seeing  that  Butler  and  others  were 
behind  him,  he  had  to  be.  He  fancied  that  Butler  or 
some  one  else  might  be  planning  to  make  something  out 
of  it.  He  explained  to  him  just  how  things  were  regu 
lated  at  Harrisburg.  The  big  financiers  were  looked  to 
for  campaign  funds.  They  were  represented  by  hench 
men  in  the  State  assembly  and  senate.  The  governor 
and  the  treasurer  were  foot-free;  but  there  were  other 
influences  —  prestige,  friendship,  social  power,  political 
ambition,  etc.  The  big  men  might  constitute  a  close 
corporation,  which  in  itself  was  unfair;  but,  after  all, 
they  were  the  legitimate  sponsors  for  big  money  loans 
of  this  kind.  The  State  had  to  keep  on  good  terms  with 
them,  especially  in  times  like  these.  Seeing  that  Mr. 
Cowperwood  was  so  well  able  to  dispose  of  the  million 
he  expected  to  get,  it  would  be  perfectly  all  right  to  award 
it  to  him.;  but  Van  Nostrand  had  a  counter-proposition 
to  make.  Would  Cowperwood,  in  case  the  financial 
crowd  now  handling  the  matter  so  desired,  turn  over  his 
award  to  them  for  a  consideration — a  sum  equal  to  what 
he  expected  to  make— in  case  the  award  was  made  to  him? 

149 


THE    FINANCIER 

Certain  financiers  desired  this.  It  was  dangerous  to  him 
to  oppose  them.  They  were  perfectly  willing  he  should 
put  in  a  bid  for  five  million  and  get  the  prestige  of  that; 
to  have  him  awarded  one  million  and  get  the  prestige  of 
that  was  well  enough  also;  but,  nevertheless,  they  desired 
to  handle  the  twenty-three  million  dollars  in  an  unbroken 
lot.  It  looked  better.  He  need  not  be  advertised  as 
having  withdrawn.  They  would  be  content  to  have  him 
achieve  the  glory  of  having  done  what  he  started  out  to 
do.  But  the  example  was  so  bad.  Others  might  imitate 
him.  If  it  were  known  in  the  street  privately  that  he  had 
been  coerced,  for  a  consideration,  into  giving  up,  others 
would  be  deterred  from  imitating  him  in  the  future. 
Besides,  if  he  refused,  they  could  cause  him  trouble.  His 
loans  might  be  called.  Various  banks  might  not  be  so 
friendly  in  the  future.  His  constituents  might  be  warned 
against  him  in  one  way  or  another. 

The  State  treasurer  was  perfectly  friendly.  He  wanted 
Cowperwood  to  succeed.  Now  that  he  saw  him  he  liked 
him.  He  might  do  a  little  business  with  him  in  the 
future.  The  State  treasurer  often  had  money  to  put 
out  on  deposit.  Still,  this  was  a  ticklish  business. 

Cowperwood  saw  the  point.  He  acquiesced.  It  was 
something  with  just  the  plain  decision  to  "get  in  on  this," 
to  have  brought  so  many  high  and  mighties  to  their 
knees.  So  they  knew  of  him  now!  They  were  quite  well 
aware  of  him !  Well  and  good.  He  would  take  the  award 
and  twenty  thousand  or  thereabouts  and  withdraw.  The 
State  treasurer  was  delighted.  It  solved  a  ticklish  prop 
osition  for  him. 

"  I'm  glad  to  have  seen  you,"  he  said.  " I'm  glad  we've 
met.  I'll  drop  in  and  talk  with  you  some  time  when 
I'm  down  this  way.  We'll  have  lunch  together." 

The  State  treasurer,  for  some  odd  reason,  felt  that  Mr. 
Cowperwood  was  a  man  who  could  make  him  some  money. 
His  eye  was  so  keen;  his  expression  was  so  alert,  and  yet 
so  subtle.  He  appeared  to  be  a  man  who  could  work 

150 


THE    FI  NANCIER 

wonderfully  well  in  the  dark.  He  thought  this  whole 
thing  over,  and  decided  that  it  was  a  remarkable  thing 
for  Cowperwood  to  have  done;  and  he  told  the  governor 
and  some  other  of  his  associates  so.  Terrence  Relihan 
heard  of  him. 

"You  want  to  go  in  and  see  him  some  time,"  Van  Nos- 
trand  told  Relihan.  "He's  a  coming  man.  You  can 
feel  it.  That  young  fellow's  going  to  get  along." 

So  the  award  was  finally  made;  Cowperwood,  after 
some  private  negotiations  in  which  he  met  the  officers  of 
Drexel  &  Co.  and  Cooke  &  Co.,  was  paid  his  twenty 
thousand  dollars,  and  turned  his  share  of  the  award  over 
to  them.  His  name  was  mentioned  in  the  papers,  and 
his  prestige  grew  rapidly.  He  was  a  man  to  be  reck 
oned  with — a  banker,  a  broker,  a  man  with  strong 
connections. 

New  faces  showed  up  in  his  office  now  from  time  to 
time,  faces  not  hitherto  seen  there,  that  of  Mr.  Van  Nos- 
trand  and  of  Mr.  Relihan.  He  was  introduced  to  the 
governor  one  day  at  lunch,  and  he  began  working  on 
plans  with  young  Ellsworth  for  his  new  house.  He  was 
going  to  build  something  exceptional  this  time,  he  told 
Lillian.  They  were  going  to  have  to  do  some  entertain 
ing — entertaining  on  a  larger  scale  than  ever.  North 
Front  Street  was  becoming  too  tame.  He  put  the  house 
up  for  sale,  consulted  with  his  father  as  to  the  plans, 
and  found  that  he  was  willing  to  move.  The  old  gentle 
man  was  prospering  mightily.  Between  his  own  pros 
perity  and  his  son's — their  joint  consultations — they  were 
doing  exceedingly  well.  His  son's  prosperity  had  re 
dounded  to  the  credit  of  the  father.  The  directors  of 
his  bank,  he  told  his  son,  were  becoming  much  more 
friendly  to  him.  Next  year  President  Kugel  was  going 
to  retire.  Because  of  Frank's  noted  coup,  as  well  as  his 
own  long  service,  he  was  going  to  be  made  president. 
They  had  already  signified  as  much.  Frank  was  a  great 
borrower  from  his  father's  bank.  By  the  same  token 


THE    FINANCIER 

he  was  a  large  depositor.  His  connection  with  Edward 
Butler  was  significant.  He  sent  his  father's  bank  certain 
accounts  which  it  otherwise  could  not  have  secured.  The 
city  treasurer  became  interested  in  it,  and  the  State  treas 
urer.  Cowperwood,  Sr.,  stood  to  earn  twenty  thousand  a 
year  as  president,  and  he  owed  much  of  it  to  his  son. 
The  two  families  were  now  on  the  best  of  terms.  Anna, 
now  twenty-one,  and  Edward  and  Joseph  frequently  spent 
the  night  at  Frank's  house.  Lillian  called  almost  daily 
at  his  mother's.  There  was  much  interchange  of  family 
gossip,  and  it  was  thought  well  to  build  side  by  side. 
So  Cowperwood,  Sr.,  bought  fifty  feet  of  ground  next 
to  his  son's  thirty-five,  and  together  they  commenced 
the  erection  of  two  charming,  commodious  homes,  which 
were  to  be  connected  by  a  covered  passageway,  or  pergola, 
which  could  be  inclosed  with  glass  in  winter. 

The  most  popular  stone,  granite,  was  chosen;  but  Mr. 
Ellsworth  promised  to  present  it  in  such  a  way  that  it 
would  be  especially  pleasing.  Cowperwood,  Sr.,  de 
cided  that  he  could  afford  to  spend  seventy-five  thousand 
dollars — he  was  now  worth  two  hundred  and  fifty  thou 
sand;  and  Frank  decided  that  he  could  risk  fifty, 
seeing  that  he  could  raise  money  on  a  mortgage.  The 
two  of  them  agreed  that,  considering  their  prospects,  it 
was  advisable.  Other  men  of  less  financial  significance 
were  better  located  than  they.  Frank  decided  that  he 
would  at  the  same  time  remove  his  office  farther  south 
on  Third  Street  and  occupy  a  building  of  his  own.  He 
knew  where  an  option  was  to  be  had  on  a  twenty-five-foot 
building,  which,  though  old,  could  be  given  a  new  brown- 
stone  front  and  made  very  significant.  He  saw  in  his 
mind's  eye  a  handsome  building,  fitted  with  an  immense 
plate-glass  window;  inside  his  hardwood  fixtures  visible; 
and  over  the  door,  or  to  one  side  of  it,  set  in  bronze  letters, 
Cowperwood  &  Co.  His  trading  accounts  on  'change 
had  grown  so  that  they  would  net  him  fifteen  thousand 
dollars  this  coming  year,  and  they  were  still  growing. 

152 


THE    FINANCIER 

Vaguely  but  surely  he  began  to  see  looming  before 
him,  like  a  lovely,  fleecy  cloud  on  the  horizon,  his 
future  fortune.  He  was  to  be  rich,  very  rich,  because  he 
was  strong,  young,  healthy,  shrewd,  subtle.  And  he  did 
not  dream. 

6 


CHAPTER  XV 

DURING  all  this  time  that  Cowperwood  had  been 
building  himself  up  so  thoroughly  in  his  financial 
affairs  the  great  war  of  the  rebellion  had  been  fought 
almost  to  its  close.  It  was  now  October,  1864.  The 
capture  of  Mobile  and  the  battle  of  the  Wilderness  were 
fresh  memories.  Grant  was  now  before  Petersburg;  and 
the  great  general  of  the  South  was  giving  that  last  bril 
liant  and  hopeless  display  of  his  ability  as  a  strategist 
and  a  soldier.  During  all  these  years  Cowperwood  had 
been  compelled  by  the  curiosities,  the  terrors,  and  the  for 
tune  of  the  war  to  give  great  mental  attention  to  it.  There 
had  been  times — as,  for  instance,  during  the  long,  dreary 
period  in  which  the  country  was  waiting  for  Vicksburg 
to  fall,  for  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  to  prove  victorious, 
when  Pennsylvania  was  invaded  by  Lee — when  stocks  fell 
and  commercial  conditions  were  very  bad  generally.  In 
times  like  these  Cowperwood's  own  manipulative  ability 
was  taxed  to  the  utmost,  and  he  had  to  watch  every  hour 
to  see  that  his  fortunes  were  not  destroyed  by  some  un 
expected  and  destructive  piece  of  intelligence. 

The  boy's  attitude  toward  the  war — for  he  was  still 
a  boy  in  years  if  not  in  judgment  —  aside  from  his 
patriotic  feeling  that  the  Union  ought  to  be  maintained, 
was  that  it  was  destructive  and  wasteful.  He  was  not 
so  wanting  in  national  emotion  and  passion  but  what  he 
could  feel  that  the  Union,  as  it  had  now  come  to  be, 
spreading  its  great  length  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific, 
and  from  the  snows  of  Canada  to  the  Gulf,  was  worth 
while.  Since  his  birth,  in  1837,  he  had  seen  the  nation 
reach  that  physical  perfection — barring  Alaska — which  it 

154 


THE    FINANCIER 

finally  retained.  Not  so  much  earlier  than  his  youth 
Florida  had  been  added  to  the  Union  by  purchase  from 
Spain;  Mexico,  after  the  unjust  war  of  1848,  had  ceded 
Texas  and  the  territory  to  the  West.  The  boundary  dis 
putes  between  England  and  the  United  States  in  the  far 
Northwest  had  been  finally  adjusted.  To  a  man  with 
great  social  and  financial  imagination,  these  facts  could 
not  help  but  be  significant;  and  if  they  did  nothing  more, 
they  gave  him  a  sense  of  the  boundless  commercial 
possibilities  which  existed  potentially  in  so  vast  a  realm. 
He  was  not  of  that  order  of  speculative  financial  en 
thusiasm  which,  in  the  type  known  as  the  "promoter," 
sees  endless  possibilities  for  gain  in  every  unexplored 
rivulet  and  prairie  reach;  but  the  very  vastness  of  the 
country  suggested  possibilities  which  he  hoped  might 
remain  undisturbed.  As  a  territory  covering  the  length 
of  a  whole  zone  and  between  two  seas,  it  seemed  to  him 
to  possess  an  individuality  which  it  would  not  retain  if 
the  States  of  the  South  were  lost. 

Nevertheless,  the  freedom  of  the  negro  was  not  a  signifi 
cant  point  with  him.  He  had  observed  their  race  from 
his  boyhood  and  with  considerable  interest,  and  had  been 
struck  with  virtues  and  defects  which  seemed  inherent 
and  conditioned  by  their  experiences. 

He  was  not  at  all  sure,  for  instance,  that  the  negroes 
could  be  made  into  anything  much  more  significant  than 
they  were.  At  any  rate,  it  was  a  long  uphill  struggle 
for  them,  of  which  many  future  generations  would  not 
witness  the  conclusion.  He  had  no  particular  quarrel 
with  the  theory  that  they  should  be  free;  he  saw  no 
particular  reason  why  the  South  should  not  protest 
vigorously  against  the  destruction  of  their  property  and 
their  system.  It  was  too  bad  that  the  negroes  as  slaves 
should  be  abused  in  some  instances.  He  felt  sure  that 
that  ought  to  be  adjusted  in  some  way;  but  beyond  that 
he  could  not  see  that  there  was  a  great  ethical  basis  for 
the  contentions  of  either  side.  The  vast  majority  of 


THE    FINANCIER 

men  and  women,  as  he  could  see,  were  not  essentially 
above  slavery,  even  when  they  had  all  the  guarantees  of 
a  constitution  formulated  to  prevent  it.  There  was  mental 
slavery,  the  slavery  of  the  weak  mind  and  the  weak  body. 
He  followed  the  contentions  of  such  men  as  Sumner, 
Garrison,  Phillips,  and  Beecher  with  considerable  inter 
est;  but  at  no  time  could  he  see  that  the  problem  was 
a  vital  one  for  him.  He  did  not  care  to  be  a  soldier  or  an 
officer  of  soldiers;  he  had  no  gift  of  polemics;  his  mind 
was  not  of  the  disputatious  order — not  even  in  the  realm 
of  finance.  He  was  concerned  only  to  see  what  was  of 
vast  advantage  to  him,  and  to  devote  all  his  attention  to 
that.  This  fratricidal  war  in  the  nation  could  not  help 
him.  It  really  delayed,  he  thought,  the  true  commercial 
and  financial  advancement  of  the  country,  and  he  hoped 
that  it  would  soon  end.  He  was  not  of  those  who  com 
plained  bitterly  of  the  excessive  war  taxes,  though  he  knew 
them  to  be  trying  to  many.  Some  of  the  stories  of  death 
and  disaster  moved  him  greatly;  but,  alas,  they  were 
among  the  unaccountable  fortunes  of  life,  and  could  not 
be  remedied  by  him.  So  he  had  gone  his  way  day  by 
day,  watching  the  coming  in  and  the  departing  of  troops, 
seeing  the  bands  of  dirty,  disheveled,  gaunt,  sickly  men 
returning  from  the  fields  and  hospitals;  and  all  he  could 
do  was  to  feel  sorry.  This  war  was  not  for  him.  He 
had  taken  no  part  in  it,  and  he  felt  sure  that  he  could 
only  rejoice  in  its  conclusion — not  as  a  patriot,  but  as  a 
financier.  It  was  wasteful,  pathetic,  unfortunate. 

The  months  proceeded  apace .  A  local  election  intervened 
and  there  was  a  new  city  treasurer,  a  new  assessor  of  taxes, 
and  a  new  mayor;  but  Edward  Malia  Butler  continued 
to  have  apparently  the  same  influence  as  before.  The 
Butlers  and  the  Cowperwoods,  although  the  latter  had 
not  moved,  had  become  quite  friendly.  Mrs.  Butler 
rather  liked  Lillian,  though  they  were  of  different  religious 
beliefs;  and  they  went  driving  or  shopping  together,  as 
the  case  might  be,  the  younger  woman  a  little  critical  and 

156 


THE    FINANCIER 

ashamed  of  the  elder  because  of  her  poor  grammar,  her 
Irish  accent,  her  plebeian  tastes — as  though  the  Wiggins 
had  not  been  plebeian  as  any.  The  old  lady  was  good- 
natured,  however,  and  good-hearted.  She  loved  to  give, 
since  she  had  plenty,  and  sent  presents  here  and  there  to 
Lillian,  the  children,  and  others.  "Now  youse  must 
come  over  and  take  dinner  with  us" — the  Butlers  had 
arrived  at  the  evening-dinner  period — or  "Youse  must 
come  drive  with  me  to-morrow." 

"  Aileen,  God  bless  her,  is  such  a  foine  girl,"  or  "  Norah, 
the  darlin',  is  sick  the  day." 

It  astonished  Mrs.  Cowperwood  how  Mr.  Butler  could 
have  attained  to  such  wealth  and  distinction;  but  Frank 
told  her  he  was  tremendously  able  and  powerful,  both 
he  and  his  boys. 

It  was  well  known  to  her,  through  Frank,  that  Mrs. 
Butler  could  neither  read  nor  write;  but  that  made  no 
difference.  But  Aileen,  her  airs,  her  aggressive  disposition, 
her  love  of  attention,  her  vanity,  irritated  and  at  times 
disgusted  Mrs.  Cowperwood. 

"The  little  snip" — she  was  not  little  at  all,  but  on  the 
contrary  quite  sizable — "she  thinks  the  sun  rises  and  sets 
in  her  father's  pocket,"  Lillian  observed,  one  day,  to  her 
husband.  "To  hear  her  talk  you'd  think  they  were 
descended  from  Irish  kings.  Her  pretended  interest  in 
art  and  music  amuses  me." 

"But  I  think  she  is  rather  artistic,"  observed  Cowper 
wood,  persuasively.  He  liked  Aileen  very  much  as  a 
personality.  "She  plays  very  well,  and  she  has  a  good 
voice." 

"Yes,  I  know;  but  she  has  no  real  refinement.  How 
could  she  have  ?  Look  at  her  father  and  mother.  '  Youse 
must  come  over  now,  soon.'"  Mrs.  Cowperwood  was 
imitating  Mrs.  Butler.  The  latter's  red  face  and  hands 
and  her  use  of  "youse"  were  most  offensive  to  her. 
She  admired  the  manners  and  appearance  of  the  other 
significant  personages  they  had  met  so  much  more. 


THE    FINANCIER 

"I  don't  see  anything  much  the  matter  with  her,"  in 
sisted  Cowperwood.  "She's  bright  and  good-looking. 
Of  course  she's  only  a  girl;  but  she'll  come  out  of  that. 
She  has  real  sense  and  force,  at  that." 

Aileen  was  most  friendly  to  him.  In  spite  of  the  pres 
ence  of  his  wife  and  children,  she  liked  him  individually, 
separately,  apart  from  them.  She  used  to  play  the  piano 
brilliantly  in  his  home,  and  sing  for  him,  and  she  sang 
only  when  he  was  there.  There  ,was  something  about 
his  steady,  even  gait,  his  stocky  body  and  handsome 
head  which  attracted  her.  In  spite  of  her  own  vanity 
and  egotism  she  felt  a  little  overawed  before  him  at 
times — keyed  up.  When  he  came  where  she  was  she 
seemed  to  be  exalted  in  her  mood,  to  grow  gayer  and 
more  brilliant.  All  her  thoughts,  feelings,  emotions 
vibrated  rapidly,  and  yet  she  did  not  think  of  him 
as  anything  save  a  most  charming  and  likable 
man. 

The  most  futile  thing  in  this  world  is  to  attempt  exact 
definitions  of  character.  All  individuals  are  a  bundle 
of  contrarieties — none  more  so  than  the  most  capable. 
In  the  latter  subtlety  enters  to  conceal  so  that  we  cannot 
— always — see.  Policy  surrounds  the  great  like  a  mystic 
veil.  We  cannot  know,  because  it  is  not  expedient  for 
us  to  know.  Power  identifies  a  man  or  a  woman  with  great 
consequences,  and  the  result  of  exposure  is  most  carefully 
guarded  against  by  all. 

In  the  case  of  Aileen  Butler  it  would  be  quite  impossible 
to  give  an  exact  definition.  Talent  of  a  raw,  crude  order 
was  certainly  present — a  native  force  which  had  been  some 
what  polished,  as  granite  may  be,  by  the  feelings,  opinions, 
and  conventions  of  current  society,  but  which  still  showed 
through  in  an  elemental  and  yet  attractive  way.  At 
this  time  she  was  only  eighteen  years  of  age,  goodly  to 
look  at — decidedly  so  from  the  point  of  view  of  a  man 
of  Frank  Cowperwood's  temperament — but  beneath  his 
social  opportunities,  as  Mrs.  Semple  had  been.  Already 


THE    FINANCIER 

it  has  been  indicated  that  he  was  physically  urgent.  It 
has  also  been  shown  that  he  was  artistically  minded. 
Aileen  Butler  supplied  something  which  he  had  not  pre 
viously  known  or  consciously  craved.  No  other  woman 
or  girl  whom  he  had  known  had  ever  possessed  so  much 
innate  force  as  this  one  possessed,  none  so  much  vitality 
and  vivacity.  Her  red-gold  hair — it  was  not  so  much 
red  as  decidedly  golden,  with  a  suggestion  of  red  in  it — 
was  rich  and  plentiful.  It  looped  itself  in  heavy  folds 
about  her  forehead,  and  sagged  at  the  base  of  her  neck. 
She  had  a  beautiful  nose,  not  sensitive,  but  straight-cut 
with  small  nostril  openings,  and  eyes  that  were  big,  and 
while  forceful,  were  still  sensuous.  They  were  such  a  nice 
shade  of  blue — gray-blue.  Her  clothes,  for  some  strange 
reason,  seemed  to  suggest  undue  luxury.  They  hinted  at 
the  bangles,  anklets,  ear-rings,  and  breast-plates  of  the  oda 
lisque,  and  yet,  of  course,  these  were  not  there.  She  con 
fessed  to  him  years  afterward  that  she  would  love  to 
have  stained  her  nails  and  painted  the  center  of  the  palms 
of  her  hands  with  madder-red.  Yet  she  was  as  vigorous, 
as  healthy,  and  as  normal  seeming  as  any  girl  could  be. 
She  was  intensely  interested  in  life,  men,  what  they  would 
think  of  her,  and  how  she  compared  with  other  women. 
The  fact  that  she  could  ride  in  a  carriage,  live  in  a  fine 
home  in  Girard  Avenue,  visit  such  homes  as  those  of  the 
Cowperwoods  and  others,  was  of  great  weight;  and  yet, 
even  at  this  age,  she  realized  that  life  was  more  than 
these  things.  Many  did  not  have  them  and  lived.  But 
these  facts  of  wealth  and  advantage  gripped  her;  and 
when  she  sat  at  the  piano  and  played  or  rode  in  her  car 
riage  or  walked  or  stood  before  her  mirror,  she  was  con 
scious  of  her  figure,  her  charms,  what  they  meant  to  men, 
how  women  envied  her.  Sometimes  she  looked  at  poor, 
hollow-chested  or  homely-faced  girls  and  felt  sorry  for 
them;  at  other  times  she  flared  into  inexplicable  opposi 
tion  to  some  handsome  girl  or  woman  who  dared  to 
brazen  her  socially  or  physically.  There  were  such  girls 

159 


THE    FINANCIER 

of  the  better  families,  who,  in  Chestnut  Street,  in  the  ex 
pensive  shops,  or  on  the  drive,  on  horseback  or  in  carriages, 
tossed  their  heads  and  indicated  as  well  as  human  motions 
can  that  they  were  better  bred  and  knew  it.  She  flared 
instantly  with  a  terrible  hate.  Her  blood  boiled  and 
chilled.  "I  would  have  you  know,"  her  mind  declared, 
vehemently,  to  herself,  thinking  of  her  charms,  and  she 
would  sit  bolt  upright  on  her  horse  or  in  her  father's 
brougham,  looking  as  queenly  as  the  best.  She  knew  well 
enough  that  it  was  against  her  and  her  sister  and  her 

brothers  that  her  father  was  once  a ;  but  to  that  she 

never  referred,  even  mentally,  to  herself.  She  hated  the 
thought,  and  she  wanted  ever  so  much  to  get  up  in  the 
world ;  and  yet  namby-pamby  men  of  better  social  station 
than  herself  did  not  attract  her  at  all.  She  wanted  a  man. 
Now  and  then  there  was  one  "something  like,"  but  not 
entirely,  who  appealed  to  her;  but  most  of  them  were 
politicians  or  legislators — socially  nothing  at  all,  and  so 
they  wearied  or  disappointed  her.  Her  father  did  not 
know  the  truly  elite.  But  Mr.  Cowperwood — he  seemed 
so  refined,  so  exquisite,  so  forceful,  and  so  reserved.  She 
often  looked  at  Mrs.  Cowperwood  and  thought  how  fortu 
nate  she  was. 

The  development  of  Mr.  Frank  Algernon  Cowperwood's 
financial  significance — his  significance  as  Cowperwood  & 
Co. — finally  brought  him  into  relationship  with  one  man 
who  proved  of  the  utmost  significance  to  him,  morally, 
financially,  and  in  other  ways,  and  because  he  did  this  he 
must  be  dealt  with  here  at  length.  This  was  George  W. 
Stener,  the  new  city  treasurer-elect,  who,  to  begin  with, 
was  a  puppet  in  the  hands  of  other  men;  but  who,  also, 
in  spite  of  this  fact,  became  a  personage  of  considerable 
significance,  for  the  simple  fact  that  he  was  weak.  Stener 
had  been  a  real-estate  dealer  and  insurance  man  in  a 
small  way  before  he  was  made  city  treasurer.  He  was 
one  of  those  men,  of  whom  there  are  so  many  thousands 
in  every  large  community,  who  have  no  breadth  of  vision, 

1 60 


THE    FINANCIER 

no  real  subtlety,  no  craft,  no  great  skill  in  anything.  He 
was  not  a  bad  real-estate  dealer.  He  could  follow  up 
small  trades  with  avidity,  talk  a  blacksmith,  a  mechanic, 
a  grocer,  or  a  moderate  professional  man  into  taking  out 
a  life-insurance  policy — if  the  latter  was  so  inclined — or 
into  buying  a  lot ;  but  he  had  no  idea  of  any  of  the  superior 
affairs  of  the  world.  You  would  never  hear  a  new  idea 
emanating  from  Stener.  He  never  had  one  in  his  life. 
Now  and  then  some  one  would  drop  a  real  thought  which 
seemed  quite  wonderful  to  him,  or  he  would  hear  of  some 
thing  which  he  could  make  use  of  in  his  business.  He 
was  not  a  bad  fellow.  He  had  a  stodgy,  dusty,  common 
place  look  to  him  which  was  more  a  matter  of  his  mind 
than  his  body.  His  eye  was  of  vague  gray-blue;  his 
hair  a  dusty  light-brown  and  thin.  His  mouth — there 
was  nothing  impressive  there.  He  was  quite  tall,  nearly 
six  feet,  with  moderately  broad  shoulders;  but  his  figure 
was  anything  but  shapely — not  at  all  satisfactory.  He 
seemed  to  stoop  a  little,  his  stomach  was  the  least  bit 
protuberant,  and  he  talked  commonplaces — the  small 
change  of  newspaper  and  social  (street  and  business) 
gossip.  People  liked  him  in  his  own  neighborhood.  He 
was  thought  to  be  honest  and  kindly;  and  he  was,  in 
so  far  as  he  knew.  His  wife  and  four  children  were  as 
average  and  insignificant  as  the  wives  and  children  of 
such  men  usually  are.  A  really  intelligent,  artistically 
minded  individual  would  have  been  bored  to  extinction 
by  George  W.  Stener;  and  his  family  had  no  social  life 
whatsoever — at  least  before  he  was  made  treasurer. 
They  went  to  a  Methodist  church  Sundays  because  it 
was  the  largest  in  their  vicinity.  They  knew  their 
neighbors  "next  door,"  and  for  a  few  doors  away.  They 
went  in  to  see  people  who  were  sick  or  dying,  and  they 
lived  fairly  comfortably  on,  say,  twenty-five  hundred  a 
year,  putting  a  little  by  for  a  rainy  day,  at  that. 

George  W.  Stener  was  brought  into  temporary  public 
notice  by  the  same  political  methods  which  have  existed 

161 


THE    FINANCIER 

in  Philadelphia,  practically  unmodified,  for  the  last  half 
hundred  years  and  more. 

He  was  known  first  to  the  local  councilman  and  ward- 
leader;  because  he  was  of  the  same  political  faith  as  the 
dominant  local  political  party  he  was  used  in  one  or  two 
political  campaigns  to  drum  up  votes.  He  was  abso 
lutely  without  value  as  a  speaker,  for  he  had  no  ideas; 
but  as  a  vote-chaser — a  political  bookkeeper — he  was  ex 
cellent.  You  could  send  him  from  door  to  door,  asking 
the  grocer  and  the  blacksmith  and  the  butcher  how  he 
felt  about  things.  You  could  dole  him  out  a  few  plati 
tudes,  and  he  would  repeat  them.  The  Republican  party, 
which  was  the  new-born  party  then,  but  dominant  in 
Philadelphia,  needed  your  vote;  it  was  necessary  to  keep 
the  rascally  Democrats  out — he  could  scarcely  have  said 
why.  They  had  been  for  slavery.  They  were  for  free 
trade.  It  never  once  occurred  to  him  that  these  things 
had  nothing  to  do  with  the  local  executive  and  finan 
cial  administration  of  Philadelphia.  The  reputation  and 
secret  political  standing  of  such  men  as  Senator  Mark 
Simpson,  Edward  Malia  Butler,  and  Henry  A.  Mollen- 
hauer,  who  were  supposed  jointly  to  control  the  political 
destiny  of  Philadelphia,  was  a  wonderful  thing  to  him,  a 
curiosity.  There  were  all  sorts  of  men  prominent  polit 
ically,  and  he  often  wondered  how  they  came  to  be  so. 
By  degrees  he  learned  how  politics  were  worked  in  his 
ward,  then  in  the  city  generally;  but,  having  no  personal 
magnetism,  he  still  could  not  understand  it.  Men  control 
ling  other  men,  being  looked  up  to — that  was  a  strange 
thing. 

In  no  other  city  save  such  a  one  as  this,  where  the  in 
habitants  were  of  a  deadly  average  in  so  far  as  being  com 
monplace  was  concerned,  could  such  a  man  have  been 
elected  city  treasurer.  But  the  people  of  Philadelphia, 
the  rank  and  file,  did  not,  except  in  a  few  rare  instances, 
make  up  their  political  programme,  and  never  had.  An 
inside  ring  had  this  matter  in  charge.  Certain  positions 

162 


THE    FINANCIER 

were  allowed  to  such  and  such  men  or  to  such  and  such 
factions  of  the  party  for  such  and  such  services  rendered 
— but  who  does  not  know  politics? 

One  Vear  George  W.  Stener  became  persona  grata  to 
Edward  Strobik,  a  quondam  councilman  who  afterward 
became  ward  leader  and  still  later  president  of  council, 
and  who  was  in  private  life  a  stone-dealer  and  owner  of 
a  brickyard.  Strobik  was  a  henchman  of  Henry  A. 
Mollenhauer,  ostensibly  a  coal  merchant,  the  hardest  and 
coldest  of  all  three  of  the  political  leaders.  The  latter 
had  things  to  get  from  council,  and  Strobik  was  his  tool. 
Strobik  had  Stener  elected  in  his  place;  and  because  he 
was  faithful  in  voting  as  he  was  told  Stener  was  later 
made  an  assistant  superintendent  of  the  highways  de 
partment. 

Here  he  came  into  the  eyes  of  Edward  "Malia  Butler, 
and  was  slightly  useful  to  him.  He  came  to  have  a  little 
influence  in  his  ward — to  be,  so  to  speak,  in  charge  of  it. 
Then  the  central  political  committee,  which  was  composed 
of  Butler,  Mollenhauer,  and  Simpson,  decided  that  some 
nice,  docile  man  who  would  at  the  same  time  be  absolutely 
faithful  was  needed  for  city  treasurer,  and  so  Stener  was 
put  on  the  ticket.  He  knew  little  of  finance,  but  was 
an  excellent  bookkeeper;  and,  anyhow,  Corporation 
Counsel  Regan  was  there  to  advise  him  at  all  times.  It 
was  a  very  simple  matter.  Being  put  on  the  ticket  was 
equivalent  to  being  elected,  and  so,  after  a  few  weeks 
of  exceedingly  trying  platform  experiences,  in  which  he 
stammered  through  platitudinous  declarations  that  the 
city  needed  to  be  honestly  administered,  he  was  inducted 
into  office;  and  there  you  were. 

Now  it  wouldn't  have  made  so  much  difference  what 
George  W.  Stener's  executive  and  financial  qualifications 
for  the  position  in  question  were,  but  the  city  of  Philadel 
phia  was  still  hobbling  along  under  the  financial  system, 
or  lack  of  it,  previously  outlined — namely,  that  of  allow 
ing  the  assessor  and  the  treasurer  to  collect  and  hold 

163 


THE    FINANCIER 

moneys  outside  of  the  city's  private  vaults  without  ex 
pecting  that  they  invest  them  for  interest  for  the  city's 
benefit,  or  do  more  than  restore  the  principal  intact  which 
was  with  them  when  they  entered  or  left  office.  It  was 
not  understood  or  publicly  demanded  that  the  moneys  so 
collected,  or  drawn  from  any  source,  be  maintained  in 
tact  in  the  vaults  of  the  city  treasury.  They  could  be 
loaned  out,  deposited  in  banks,  used  to  further  private 
interests,  so  long  as  the  principal  was  returned,  and  no 
one  was  the  wiser.  Of  course,  this  theory  of  finance  was 
not  publicly  sanctioned.  People  did  not  agree  that  State 
and  city  treasurers  and  assessors  should  do  this;  but  it 
was  politically  and  journalistically,  and,  in  high  finance, 
socially  known  that  they  could  and  did  do  it,  and  that 
was  all  there  was  to  it.  How  were  you  going  to  stop  it? 
A  certain  group  of  gentlemen,  including  Messrs.  Butler, 
Mollenhauer,  Simpson,  certain  bankers,  brokers,  journa 
lists,  and  others  directly  or  indirectly  profited  by  this 
sort  of  thing,  but  said  nothing,  winked  their  eyes,  let 
things  go  as  they  were  and  were  happy.  They  constituted, 
as  it  were,  an  inside  ring,  a  notable  hierarchy  of  power 
which  used  this  money  to  their  own  advantage.  Edward 
Malia  Butler  was  one  of  those;  but  he  was  only  one. 
These  organizations  are  never  dominated  by  one  man 
alone.  They  grow  like  a  rank  growth  of  weeds  in  a  small 
community.  They  fatten  and  are  added  to  until,  if 
you  attempt  to  trace  them  out,  you  reach  by  wider  and 
ever-widening  circles  the  very  body  and  blood  of  the  peo- 
l  pie  themselves.  We  are  all  sinners,  either  directly  or 
i  indirectly,  if  no  more  than  by  the  fact  that  we  do  not 
I  protest.  If  we  do  not  protest,  it  is  evident  that  this  idea 
is  not  so  very  shocking  to  us,  certainly  not  enough  to 
irritate  us  to  the  point  of  protesting. 

We  plead  the  difficulty  of  life,  the  necessity;  life  is  so 
hard  to  regulate;  the  individual  man  is  so  weak,  and  so 
on.  All  of  us  are  too  busy  grasping  at  immediate  gains 
to  trouble  about  far-off  evils  and  errors.  So —  Any- 

164 


THE    FINANCIER 

how,  the  city  treasurers  and  assessors  did  not  need  to 
account  for  more  than  the  principal  of  the  sums  intrusted 
to  them;  and  from  this  sprang  all  the  hurry  and  en 
thusiasm  of  private  speculation,  which  was  so  profitable 
and  satisfactory  to  so  many  individuals. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

MR.  FRANK  ALGERNON  COWPERWOOD,  in  ap 
proaching  Mr.  Edward  Malia  Butler,  had  been 
unconsciously  let  in  on  this  atmosphere  of  erratic  and 
unsatisfactory  speculation  without  really  knowing  it. 
When  he  had  left  the  office  of  Tighe  &  Co.,  seven 
years  before,  it  was  with  the  idea  that  henceforth  and 
forever  he  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  stock- 
brokerage  proposition;  but  now  behold  him  back  in  it 
again,  with  more  vim  than  he  had  ever  displayed  in  the 
first  place,  for  now  he  was  working  for  himself,  the  firm 
of  Cowperwood  &  Co.,  and  he  was  eager  to  satisfy  the 
world  of  new  and  powerful  individuals  who  by  degrees 
were  drifting  to  him.  From  many  sections  of  this  political 
world  they  came.  All  had  a  little  money.  All  had  tips, 
and  they  wanted  him  to  carry  certain  lines  of  stocks 
on  margin  for  them,  because  he  was  known  to  other 
political  men,  and  because  he  was  safe.  He  was  not  a 
speculator  or  a  gambler  on  his  own  account.  He  soothed 
himself  with  the  thought  that  in  all  these  years  he  had 
never  gambled  for  himself,  but  had  always  acted  strictly 
for  others  instead.  Now  Mr.  George  W.  Stener  had 
another  proposition  to  offer  him,  which  was  not  quite 
the  same  thing  as  stock-gambling  for  himself,  and  yet 
it  was.  How  will  be  explained. 

During  a  long  period  of  years  preceding  the  Civil  War, 
and  through  it,  the  city  of  Philadelphia  had  been  in  the 
habit,  as  a  corporation,  when  there  were  no  available 
funds  in  the  treasury,  of  issuing  what  were  known  as 
city  warrants,  which  were  nothing  more  than  notes  or 
I.  O.  U.'s  bearing  six  per  cent,  interest,  and  payable  some- 

166 


THE    FI  NANCIER 

times  in  thirty  days,  sometimes  in  three  months,  some 
times  in  six  months,  and  sometimes  much  longer — all 
depending  on  the  amount  and  how  soon  the  city  treasurer 
thought  there  would  be  sufficient  money  in  the  treasury 
to  take  them  up  and  cancel  them.  Small  tradesmen  and 
large  contractors  were  frequently  paid  in  this  way;  the 
small  tradesman  who  sold  supplies  to  the  city  institutions, 
for  instance,  being  compelled  to  discount  his  notes  at 
the  bank  if  he  needed  ready  money,  usually  for  ninety 
cents  on  the  dollar,  while  the  large  contractor  could  afford 
to  hold  his  and  wait.  It  can  readily  be  seen  that  this 
might  be  a  system  quite  to  the  disadvantage  of  the  small 
dealer  and  merchant,  and  quite  a  fine  thing  for  a  large 
contractor  or  note-broker;  for  the  city  was  sure  to  pay 
the  warrants  some  time,  and  six  per  cent,  interest  was  a 
nice  rate,  considering  the  absolute  security.  A  banker  or 
broker  who  gathered  these  things  up  from  small  trades 
men  at  ninety  cents  on  the  dollar  made  a  fine  thing  of  it 
all  around  if  he  could  wait. 

Originally,  in  all  probability,  there  was  no  intention 
on  the  part  of  the  city  treasurer  to  do  any  one  an  injustice, 
and  it  is  likely  that  there  really  were  no  funds  to  pay  with 
at  the  time.  However  that  may  have  been,  there  was 
later  no  excuse  for  issuing  the  warrants  at  all,  seeing 
that  the  city  might  have  been  economically  managed. 
But  these  warrants,  as  can  be  readily  imagined,  had  come 
to  be  a  fine  source  of  profit  for  note-brokers,  bankers, 
political  financiers,  and  inside  political  manipulators 
generally.  It  was  so  easy  for  the  "right"  city  treasurer 
to  issue  a  large  number  of  these  warrants.  It  was  so 
easy  for  him  to  refuse  payment  within  any  reasonable 
period,  merely  stamping  the  amount  of  interest  due 
on  the  face  of  the  note  and  letting  the  holder  keep  it. 
The  small  tradesman  then,  because  of  his  necessities,  had 
to  discount  his  notes.  The  large  banker  said  to  himself, 
"Where  can  I  get  a  better  or  safer  investment  than  this? 
Let  the  city  pay  me  with  interest  as  long  as  it  pleases. 

167 


THE    FINANCIER 

When  the  time  comes  when  these  things  must  be  taken 
up,  it  will  pay  me  one  hundred  cents  on  the  dollar  where 
I  only  paid  ninety."  There  was  just  one  drawback  to 
all  this,  and  that  was,  in  order  to  get  the  full  advantage 
of  this  condition,  the  large  banker  holding  them  must 
be  an  "inside  banker,"  one  close  to  the  political  forces 
of  the  city,  for  in  case  he  was  not  and  he  needed  money 
(must  have  it),  and  he  carried  his  warrants  to  the  city 
treasurer,  he  would  find  that  he  could  not  get  cash  for 
them.  But  if  he  transferred  them  to  some  banker  or 
note-broker  who  was  close  to  the  political  force  of  the 
city,  it  was  quite  another  matter.  Then  the  warrants 
were  in  the  right  hands.  The  treasury  would  find  means 
to  pay.  Or,  if  the  note-broker  or  banker — the  right 
one — wished,  notes  which  were  intended  to  be  met  in 
three  months,  and  should  have  been  settled  at  that  time, 
would  be  allowed  to  run  on  years  and  years,  drawing 
interest  at  six  per  cent.,  even  when  the  city  had  ample 
funds  wherewith  to  meet  them.  This  meant  an  illegal 
interest  drain  on  the  city,  but  that  was  all  right  also. 
"No  funds"  could  cover  that.  The  general  public  did 
not  know.  It  could  not  find  out.  The  newspapers  were 
not  at  all  vigilant,  being  pro-political.  There  were  no 
persistent,  enthusiastic  reformers  who  obtained  any 
political  credence.  During  the  war  these  warrants  out 
standing  in  this  manner  rose  in  amount  to  much  over  two 
million  dollars,  all  drawing  six  per  cent,  interest ;  and  then, 
of  course,  it  began  to  get  a  little  scandalous.  Besides, 
the  investors  began  to  want  their  money  back. 

In  order  to  clear  up  this  outstanding  indebtedness, 
and  make  everything  shipshape  again,  it  was  decided  that 
the  city  must  issue  a  loan,  say,  for  two  million  dollars — 
no  need  to  be  exact  about  the  amount.  And  this  loan 
must  take  the  shape  of  interest-bearing  certificates  of  a 
par  value  of  one  hundred  dollars,  redeemable  in  six, 
twelve,  or  eighteen  months,  as  the  case  may  be.  These 
certificates  of  loan  were  then  ostensibly  to  be  sold  on  the 

168 


THE    FINANCIER 

open  market,  a  sinking-fund  set  aside  for  their  redemption, 
and  the  money  so  obtained  used  to  take  up  the  long- 
outstanding  warrants  which  were  now  such  a  subject  of 
public  comment. 

It  is  obvious  that  this  was  merely  a  case  of  robbing 
Peter  to  pay  Paul.  There  was  no  real  clearing  up  of  the 
outstanding  debt.  It  was  the  intention  of  the  schemers 
to  make  it  possible  for  the  financial  politicians  on  the  in 
side  to  reap  the  same  old  harvest  by  allowing  the  certifi 
cates  to  be  sold  to  the  right  parties  for  ninety  or  less, 
setting  up  the  claim  that  there  was  no  market  for  them, 
the  credit  of  the  city  being  bad.  To  a  certain  extent  this 
was  true.  Times  had  changed.  The  war  was  just  over. 
Money  was  high.  Investors  could  get  more  than  six  per 
cent,  elsewhere  unless  the  loan  was  sold  at  ninety.  But 
there  were  a  few  watchful  politicians  not  in  the  adminis 
tration,  and  some  newspapers  and  non-political  financiers 
who,  because  of  the  high  strain  of  patriotism  existing  at 
the  time,  insisted  that  the  loan  should  be  sold  at  par. 
Because  of  the  recent  patriotic  war-feeling  it  was  assumed 
that  this  could  be  done,  and  it  was  not  easy  to  avoid  this 
vaunted  call  to  honesty.  A  clause  had  to  be  inserted  in 
the  enabling  ordinance  providing  that  the  loan  certificate 
must  be  sold  at  par. 

This  destroyed  the  politicians'  little  scheme  to  get  it  at 
ninety.  Nevertheless  they  desired  that  the  money  tied 
up  in  the  old  warrants  and  now  not  redeemable  because 
of  lack  of  funds  should  be  paid  them.  The  only  way  this 
could  be  done  would  be  to  have  some  broker  who  knew 
the  subtleties  of  the  stock  market  handle  this  new  city 
loan  on  'change  in  such  a  way  that  it  would  be  made  to 
seem  worth  one  hundred  and  so  would  be  sold  to  out 
siders  at  that  figure.  Afterward,  if  it  fell  below  that,  the 
politicians  could  buy  as  much  of  it  as  they  pleased,  and 
eventually  have  the  city  redeem  it  at  par.  Meanwhile 
they  would  receive  the  money  tied  up  in  the  old  city 
warrants. 

169 


THE    FINANCIER 

Mr.  George  W.  Stener,  entering  as  city  treasurer  at 
this  time,  and  bringing  no  special  financial  intelligence 
to  the  proposition,  was  really  troubled.  Mr.  Henry  A. 
Mollenhauer,  one  of  the  men  who  had  gathered  up  a  large 
amount  of  the  old  city  warrants,  and  who  now  wanted 
his  money,  in  order  to  invest  it  in  bonanza  offers  in  the 
West,  called  on  Mr.  Stener,  and  also  on  the  mayor.  He 
was  one  of  the  big  three,  of  whom  Simpson  and  Butler 
were  the  others. 

"I  think  something  ought  to  be  done  about  these 
warrants  that  are  outstanding,"  he  explained.  "I  am 
carrying  a  large  amount  of  them,  and  there  are  others. 
We  have  helped  the  city  a  long  time  by  saying  nothing; 
but  now  I  think  that  something  ought  to  be  done.  Mr. 
Butler  and  Mr.  Simpson  feel  the  same  way.  Couldn't 
these  new  loan  certificates  be  listed  on  the  stock  exchange 
and  the  money  raised  that  way?  Some  clever  broker 
could  bring  them  to  par." 

Mr.  Stener  was  greatly  flattered  by  the  visit  from  Mr. 
Mollenhauer.  The  latter,  a  large-bodied,  broad-chested, 
broad-faced  man,  of  still,  impressive  countenance,  who 
said  little,  looked  fixedly  at  anything  before  him,  and  read 
his  victims  much  as  a  cat  reads  a  bird,  was  a  great  power 
in  the  city.  He  knew  much  of  what  was  being  done 
politically  in  large  and  small  ways;  but  henchmen,  as  a 
rule,  executed  his  orders.  Rarely,  and  then  only  in 
cases  of  this  kind,  where  several  hundred  thousand  dol 
lars  of  his  money  was  involved,  did  he  trouble  to  put  in 
a  personal  appearance,  and  then  only  for  the  weight  and 
effect  his  presence  would  have.  He  called  on  the  mayor 
and  the  president  of  council,  much  as  he  called  on  Mr. 
Stener,  with  a  lofty,  distant,  inscrutable  air.  They  were 
as  office-boys  to  him.  They  were  not  deep  in  the  secrets 
of  political  and  social  finance  such  as  he  knew.  Mr. 
Stener  was  notably  impressed. 

In  order  to  understand  exactly  the  motive  of  Mr. 
Mollenhauer's  interest  in  Stener,  and  the  significance  of 

170 


THE    FINANCIER 

this  visit  and  Stener's  subsequent  action  in  regard  to  it, 
it  will  be  necessary  to  scan  the  political  horizon  for  some 
little  distance  back.  Although  George  W.  Stener  was  in 
a  way  a  political  henchman  and  appointee  of  Mollen- 
hauer's,  the  latter  was  only  vaguely  acquainted  with  him. 
He  had  seen  him  before;  knew  of  him;  had  agreed  that 
his  name  should  be  put  on  the  local  slate  largely  be 
cause  he  had  been  assured  by  those  who  were  closest  to 
him  and  who  did  his  bidding  that  Stener  was  "all  right," 
that  he  would  do  as  he  was  told,  that  he  would  cause  no 
one  any  trouble,  etc.  During  several  administrations, 
of  which  that  of  Mr.  Bode,  Mr.  Stener's  immediate 
predecessor,  was  one,  Mr.  Mollenhauer  had  maintained  a 
subsurface  connection  with  the  treasury  which  was  very 
profitable  to  him,  as  it  was  in  a  way,  though  not  so  directly, 
to  both  Butler  and  Simpson.  The  two  latter  had  more 
or  less  large  private  interests  of  their  own.  Mollenhauer 
was  too  large  a  man  politically  and  financially  to  risk  a 
close  working  connection  with  the  treasury  which  might 
readily  be  traced ;  but  he  was  not  above  a  plan  which  was 
not  known  in  all  its  details  to  either  of  his  associates, 
Messrs.  Simpson  and  Butler,  but  which  was  nevertheless 
profitable  to  them  in  one  way  and  another,  namely,  that  of 
using  political  and  commercial  stool-pigeons  to  bleed  the 
city  treasury  as  much  as  possible  without  creating  a  scan 
dal.  Various  agents  were  employed — Mr.  Edward  Strobik , 
president  of  council;  Mr.  Asa  Conklin,  the  then  incum 
bent  of  the  mayor's  chair;  Mr.  Thomas  Wycroft,  alder 
man;  Mr.  Jacob  Harmon,  alderman,  and  others.  These 
men  were  used  to  organize  dummy  companies  under  va 
rious  names,  whose  business  it  was  to  deal  in  those  things 
which  the  city  needed  and  was  compelled  to  have.  It 
saved  the  city  the  trouble  of  looking  far  and  wide  for 
honest  and  reasonable  dealers. 

Since  the  action  of  three  of  these  men  will  have 
something  to  do  with  the  development  of  Frank  Cowper- 
wood's  story  they  may  be  briefly  described.  Mr.  Edward 

171 


THE    FINANCIER 

Strobik,  the  chief  of  them,  and  the  one  most  useful  to 
Mr.  Mollenhauer,  in  a  minor  way,  although  not  generally 
known  to  be  so,  was  a  very  spry  person  of  about  thirty- 
five  at  this  time — raised  and  educated  in  Philadelphia, 
lean  and  forceful  in  a  narrow  way,  with  black  hair,  black 
eyes,  and  an  inordinately  large  black  mustache.  He  was, 
all  in  all,  rather  dapper,  inclined  to  noticeable  clothing — 
a  pair  of  striped  trousers,  a  white  vest,  a  black  cutaway 
coat,  and  a  high  silk  hat.  His  markedly  ornamental 
shoes  were  always  polished  to  perfection,  and  his  immacu 
late  appearance  gave  him  the  nickname  of  "The  Dude" 
among  some.  Nevertheless  he  was  quite  able  in  a 
mediocre  way,  and  was  well  liked  by  many.  He  was 
valued  by  Mr.  Mollenhauer,  who  kept  him  where  he  was. 

His  two  closest  associates,  Messrs.  Thomas  Wycroft 
and  Jacob  Harmon,  were  in  a  way  less  attractive  and  less 
brilliant.  Jacob  Harmon  was  a  rather  stuffy  person  of 
about  the  mental  caliber  of  Mr.  Andrew  Pohlhemus,  whom 
Cowperwood  had  known  in  his  earlier  days  on  'change, 
a  thick  wit  of  a  person  socially,  but  no  fool  financially.  He 
was  big  and  rather  doleful  to  look  upon,  with  sandy 
brown  hair  and  brown  eyes,  but  fairly  intelligent,  and 
absolutely  willing  to  approve  anything  which  was  not 
too  broad  in  its  crookedness  and  which  would  afford  him 
sufficient  protection  to  keep  him  out  of  the  clutches  of 
the  law.  He  was  really  not  so  much  cunning  as  dull 
and  anxious  to  get  along. 

Mr.  Thomas  Wycroft,  the  last  of  this  useful  but  minor 
triumvirate,  was  a  tall,  lean  man,  candle-waxy,  hollow- 
eyed,  gaunt  of  face,  pathetic  to  look  at  physically,  but 
rather  shrewd.  He  was  an  iron-molder  by  profession  or 
training;  had  gotten  into  politics  much  as  Stener  had — 
because  in  a  way  he  was  useful;  and  he  had  managed  to 
make  some  money  via  this  triumvirate  of  which  Strobik 
was  the  ringleader,  and  who  were  engaged  in  various 
peculiar  businesses  which  will  now  be  indicated. 

The  companies  which  these  several  henchmen  were 

172 


THE    FINANCIER 

supposed  to  organize,  or  had  organized  under  previous 
administrations,  such  as  Bode's,  consisted  of  organizations 
dealing  in  meat,  building  material,  lamp-posts,  highway 
supplies,  anything  you  will,  which  the  city  departments 
or  its  institutions  needed.  A  city  contract  once  awarded, 
say  to  supply  beef  to  the  city's  institutions,  or  lamp-posts 
and  other  iron  equipments  to  the  highways  department, 
was  irrevocable,  but  certain  councilmen  had  to  be  fixed  in 
advance  and  it  took  money  to  do  that.  The  company 
so  organized  need  not  do  any  actual  business.  It  need 
not  slaughter  any  cattle  or  mold  lamp  -  posts.  All  it 
had  to  do  was  to  organize  to  do  that,  obtain  a  charter, 
secure  a  contract  for  supplying  such  material  to  the  city 
from  the  city  council  (which  Mr.  Strobik,  Mr.  Harmon, 
and  Mr.  Wycroft  would  attend  to),  and  then  sublet  this 
to  some  actual  beef -slaughterer  or  iron-founder,  who  would 
supply  the  material  and  allow  them  to  pocket  their  profit. 
It  was  so  easy  and  in  a  way  so  legitimate.  The  particular 
beef-slaughterer  or  iron-founder  thus  favored  could  not 
hope  of  his  own  ability  thus  to  obtain  a  contract.  He 
ought  to  be  -glad  to  obtain  it  under  any  circumstances 
from  Messrs.  Strobik,  Harmon,  and  Wycroft.  Mr. 
Stener,  or  whoever  was  in  charge  of  the  city  treasury  at 
the  time,  for  his  services  in  loaning  money  at  a  low  rate 
of  interest  to  be  used  as  surety  for  the  proper  performance 
of  contract,  and  to  aid  in  some  instances  the  beef -killer  or 
iron-founder  to  carry  out  his  end,  was  to  be  allowed  not 
only  the  one  or  two  per  cent,  which  he  might  pocket 
(other  treasurers  had),  but  a  fair  proportion  of  the  profits. 
A  complacent,  confidential  chief  clerk  who  was  all  right 
would  be  recommended  to  him.  It  did  not  concern  Mr. 
Stener  that  Mr.  Strobik,  Mr.  Harmon,  and  Mr.  Wycroft 
acting  for  Mr.  Mollenhauer  were  incidentally  planning  to 
use  a  little  of  the  money  loaned  for  purposes  quite  outside 
that  indicated.  It  was  his  business  to  loan  it.  And  any 
how  that  is  another  story.  But  it  indicates  the  sub 
tleties  and  ramifications  of  these  political-financial-com- 


THE    FINANCIER 

mercial  arrangements  which  occur  in  every  American 
city,  and  that  is  what  this  particular  paragraph  is  intended 
to  illustrate. 

Stener,  before  his  induction  into  office  and  in  fact 
some  time  before  he  was  even  nominated,  had  learned  from 
Mr.  Strobik,  who,  by  the  way,  was  one  of  his  sureties  as 
treasurer  (which  suretyship  was  against  the  law,  as 
were  those  of  Councilmen  Wy croft  and  Harmon,  the  law 
of  Pennsylvania  stipulating  that  one  political  servant 
might  not  become  surety  for  another),  that  they  would  not 
ask  him  to  do  anything  which  it  was  not  perfectly  legal 
for  him  to  do,  but  that  he  must  be  complacent  and  not 
stand  in  the  way  of  big  municipal  perquisites  nor  bite  the 
hands  that  fed  him.  They  did  not  and  never  had.  Not 
only  did  Strobik,  Wy  croft,  and  Harmon  make  this 
perfectly  plain  to  him,  but  also  that  once  he  was  well 
in  office  a  little  money  for  himself  was  to  be  made. 
As  has  been  indicated,  Mr.  Stener  had  always  been  a 
poor  man.  He  had  seen  all  those  who  had  dabbled  in 
politics  to  any  extent  about  him  heretofore  do  very  well 
financially  indeed,  while  he  pegged  along  as*  an  insurance 
and  real-estate  agent.  He  had  worked  hard  as  a  small 
political  henchman.  Other  politicians  were  building  them 
selves  nice  homes  in  newer  portions  of  the  city.  They 
were  going  off  to  New  York  or  Harrisburg  or  Washington 
on  jaunting  parties.  They  were  seen  in  happy  converse 
at  road-houses  or  country  hotels  in  season  with  their 
wives  or  their  women  favorites,  and  he  was  not,  as  yet,  of 
this  happy^throng.  He  was  promised  something.  What 
would  he  get? 

When  it  came  to  this  visit  from  Mr.  Mollenhauer,  with  its 
suggestion  in  regard  to  bringing  city  loan  to  par,  although 
it  bore  no  obvious  relation  to  Mollenhauer's  distant  con 
nection  with  Stener,  or  his  control  of  Strobik  and  the 
others,  .iyet  Stener  dimly  recognized  it  to  be  such,  and  hur 
ried  to  the  latter  for  information. 

"Just  what  would  you  do  about  this?"  he  asked  of 

174 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

Strobik,  who  knew  of  Mollenhauer's  visit  before  Stener 
told  him,  and  was  waiting  for  Stener  to  speak  to  him. 
"Mr.  Mollenhauer  talks  about  having  this  new  loan 
listed  on  'change  and  brought  to  par  so  that  it  will  sell 
for  one  hundred." 

Neither  Strobik,  Harmon,  nor  Wycroft  knew  how  the 
certificates  of  city  loan  which  were  only  worth  ninety  on 
the  open  market  were  to  be  made  to  sell  for  one  hundred 
on  'change;  but  a  certain  Mr.  Sengstack,  who  was  Mollen 
hauer's  secretary,  had  suggested  to  Strobik,  acting  as 
Mollenhauer's  go-between,  that  since  Butler  was  dealing 
with  young  Cowperwood  and  Mollenhauer  did  not  care 
particularly  for  his  private  broker  in  this  instance  it 
might  be  as  well  to  try  Cowperwood.  Mollenhauer  knew 
little  of  him  save  that  he  was  clever.  So  Strobik  and 
Harmon  and  Wycroft,  who  all  knew,  so  advised  Stener. 

"Why  don't  you  try  that  young  fellow  Cowperwood?" 
suggested  Strobik.  "They  tell  me  he  is  very  clever. 
Mollenhauer  knows  of  him.  He  can  tell  you  what  can 
be  done.  I  guess  the  old  man  "  (he  was  referring  to 
Mollenhauer)  "  has  got  something  new  up  his  sleeve  if 
he  wants  you  to  redeem  those  warrants." 

So  Cowperwood,  who  was  by  this  time  strong  in  the 
confidence  of  Butler,  was  sent  for  and  he  took  this  as 
another  evidence  that  he  was  growing  in  power  and 
popularity  in  political  headquarters,  and  that  he  would 
soon  be  decidedly  prosperous.  In  his  days  as  a  servitor 
for  Tighe  &  Co.  he  had  seen  one  city  treasurer  visit  there, 
and  since  then  there  had  been  another,  Mr.  Bode,  who  had 
dealt  with  the  same  firm.  Now  this  was  coming  to  him. 
He  fancied  that  Mr.  Stener  wanted  to  dabble  in  certain 
stocks — street-railways  very  likely,  which  were  very 
active — rising.  Well,  it  was  none  of  Mr.  Cowperwood's 
business  what  money  he  used.  He  had  long  ago  settled 
for  himself  that  he  did  not  propose  to  trouble  himself 
about  people's  motives.  He  was  a  practical  man.  Fi 
nance  was  a  practical  world.  It  contained  nothing  which 

175 


THE    FINANCIER 

related  to  motives.  So  long  as  he  was  free  and  clear  of 
any  legal  complicity,  any  intention  to  defraud,  what  did 
it  concern  him  where  his  customers  came  from,  who  they 
were,  or  how  they  obtained  their  money? 

The  air,  at  this  time,  was  redolent  of  speculation.  The 
exuberance  of  the  average  American  in  regard  to  the 
future  of  the  United  States  made  him  sanguine,  dramatic, 
almost  dangerous.  "  This  political  world  is  a  great  world,*' ' 
Cowperwood  said  to  himself.  "These  fellows  have  access 
to  ready  money.  I  must  go  slow;  but  I  can  go  slow,  and 
they  will  make  me  rich."  He  journeyed  to  Mr.  Stener's 
office  and  was  introduced  to  him  at  once.  He  looked  at 
the  peculiarly  shambling,  heavy-cheeked,  middle-class 
man  before  him  without  either  interest  or  sympathy, 
and  realized  at  once  that  he  had  a  financial  baby  to  deal 
with.  Stener  knew  nothing.  If  he  could  act  as  adviser 
to  this  man — be  his  sole  counsel  for  four  years ! 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Stener?"  he  said,  in  his  soft,  in 
gratiating  voice,  as  the  latter  held  out  his  hand.  "I 
am  glad  to  meet  you.  I  have  heard  of  you  before,  of 
course." 

Mr.  Stener  was  not  long  in  explaining  to  Mr.  Cowper 
wood  just  what  his  difficulty  was.  He  went  at  it  in  a 
club-footed  fashion,  stumbling  through  the  difficulties 
of  the  situation  he  was  to  meet. 

"The  main  thing  is  to  make  these  certificates  sell  at 
par.  I  can  issue  them  in  any  sized  lots  you  like,  and  as 
often  as  you  like.  I  want  to  get  enough  now  to  clear 
away  two  hundred  thousand  dollars'  worth  of  the  out 
standing  warrants,  and  as  much  more  as  I  can  get 
later." 

Cowperwood  felt  like  a  physician  feeling  a  patient's 
pulse — a  patient  who  is  not  really  sick  at  all,  but  the 
reassurance  of  whom  would  mean  a  fat  fee  for  him.  The 
abstrusities  of  the  stock  exchange  were  as  his  A  B  C's 
to  him.  He  knew  if  he  could  have  this  loan  put  in  his 
hands — all  of  it ;  if  he  could  have  it  kept  dark  that  he  was 

176 


THE    FINANCIER 

acting  for  the  city,  and  that  if  Mr.  Stener  would  allow 
him  to  buy  as  a  "bull"  for  the  sinking-fund  while  selling 
judiciously  for  a  rise,  he  could  do  wonders  even  with  a  big 
issue.  It  was  silly  to  suppose  that  these  certificates, 
bearing  six  per  cent,  interest,  could  not  be  brought  to  par. 
He  had  to  have  all  of  it,  though,  had  to  have  agents  under 
him.  Looming  up  in  his  mind  there  was  a  scheme  where 
by  he  could  make  a  lot  of  the  unwary  speculators  about 
'change  go  short  of  this  stock  or  loan,  in  the  idea  that  it 
was  scattered  freely  in  various  people's  hands,  and  that 
they  could  buy  as  much  of  it  as  they  wanted.  Then 
they  would  wake  to  find  that  they  could  not  get  it;  that 
he  had  it  all.  Only  he  would  not  risk  his  secret  that  far. 
He  would  drive  the  city  loan  to  par  and  then  sell. 

"I  tell  you  what  I'd  like  to  do,  Mr.  Stener,"  he  said, 
after  he  had  listened  to  his  explanation,  and  asked  how 
much  of  the  city  loan  he  would  like  to  sell  during  the 
coming  year.  "I'd  like  to  take  this  under  advisement 
for  a  day  or  two.  It  can  be  done.  I'll  be  glad  to  under 
take  it.  But  I'd  like  to  have  a  day  or  two  in  which  to 
think  it  over.  Then  you  can  see  what  you  think." 

"Why,  certainly,  certainly,  Mr.  Cowperwood,"  replied 
Mr.  Stener,  genially.  "That's  all  right.  Take  your  time. 
If  you  know  how  it  can  be  done,  just  show  me  when  you're 
ready.  By  the  way,  what  do  you  charge?" 

"Well,  the  stock  exchange  has  a  regular  scale  of  charges 
which  we  brokers  are  compelled  to  observe.  It's  one- 
fourth  of  one  per  cent,  on  the  par  value  of  bonds  and  loans. 
Of  course  I  may  have  to  do  a  lot  of  fictitious  selling — I'll 
explain  that  to  you  later — but  I  won't  charge  you  anything 
for  that  so  long  as  it  is  a  secret  between  us.  I'll  give 
just  the  be^st  service  I  can,  Mr.  Stener.  You  can  depend 
on  that.  Let  me  have  a  day  or  two  to  think  it  over, 
though." 

He  shook  hands  with  Mr.  Stener,  and  they  parted. 
Cowperwood  was  satisfied  that  he  was  on  the  verge  of  a 
significant  combination,  and  Stener  that  he  had  found 

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THE    FINANCIER 

some  one  on  whom  he  could  lean.  Cowperwood  was  so 
much  younger,  but  he  was  so  forceful,  so  intelligent. 
Now,  if  Mr.  Cowperwood  were  nice  he  might  show  him, 
Mr.  Stener,  how  to  make  a  little  money  on  the  stock 
exchange.  He  had  heard  of  city  officials  doing  this.  And 
it  was  all  between  him  and  Mr.  Cowperwood — quite  a 
secret.  He  liked  him  very  much. 

The  plan  Mr.  Cowperwood  developed  after  a  few  days' 
meditation  would  be  plain  enough  to  any  one  who  knew 
anything  of  commercial  and  financial  manipulation,  but 
a  dark  secret  to  those  who  do  not.  In  the  first  place,  the 
city  treasurer  was  to  use  his  (Cowperwood 's)  office  as 
a  bank  of  deposit.  He  was  to  turn  over  to  him,  act 
ually,  or  set  over  to  his  credit  on  the  city's  books,  subject 
to  his  order,  certain  amounts  of  city  loans — two  hundred 
thousand  dollars  at  first,  since  that  was  the  amount  it 
was  desired  to  raise  quickly — and  he  would  then  go  into 
the  market  and  see  what  could  be  done  to  have  it  brought 
to  par.  The  city  treasurer  was  to  ask  leave  of  the  stock 
exchange  at  once  to  have  it  listed  as  a  security.  Cowper 
wood  would  use  his  influence  to  have  this  application 
acted  upon  quickly.  Mr.  Stener  was  to  dispose  of  all 
city  loan  certificates  through  him,  and  him  only.  He  was 
to  allow  him  to  buy  for  the  sinking-fund,  supposedly,  such 
amounts  as  he  might  have  to  buy  in  order  to  keep  the 
price  up  to  par.  To  do  this,  once  a  considerable  number 
of  the  loan  certificates  had  been  unloaded  on  the  public, 
it  might  be  necessary  to  buy  back  a  great  deal.  How 
ever,  these  would  be  sold  again.  The  law  concerning 
selling  only  at  par  would  have  to  be  abrogated  to  this 
extent — i.  e.,  that  the  wash  sales  and  preliminary  sales 
would  have  to  be  considered  no  sales  until  par  was 
reached.  There  was  a  subtle  advantage  here,  Cowper 
wood  pointed  out  to  Mr.  Stener.  In  the  first  place,  since 
the  certificates  were  going  ultimately  to  reach  par  any 
way,  there  was  no  objection  to  Mr.  Stener  or  any  one 
else  buying  low  at  the  opening  price  and  holding  for  a 

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THE    FINANCIER 

rise.  Cowperwood  would  be  glad  to  carry  him  on  his 
books  for  any  amount,  and  he  would  settle  at  the  end  of 
each  month.  He  would  not  be  asked  to  buy  the  certificates 
outright.  He  could  be  carried  on  the  books  for  a  certain 
reasonable  margin,  say  ten  points.  The  money  was  as 
good  as  made  for  Mr.  Stener  now.  In  the  next  place,  in 
buying  for  the  sinking-fund  it  would  be  possible  to  buy 
these  certificates  very  cheap,  for,  having  the  new  and 
reserve  issue  entirely  in  his  hands,  Cowperwood  could 
throw  such  amounts  as  he  wished  into  the  market  at  such 
times  as  he  wished  to  buy,  and  consequently  depress  the 
market.  Then  he  could  buy,  and,  later,  up  would  go  the 
price.  Having  the  issues  totally  in  his  hands  to  boost  or 
depress  the  market  as  he  wished,  there  was  no  reason 
why  the  city  should  not  ultimately  get  par  for  all  its 
issues,  and  yet  why  considerable  should  not  be  made  out 
of  the  manufactured  fluctuations.  He,  Cowperwood, 
would  be  glad  to  make  most  of  his  profit  that  way.  The 
city  should  allow  him  his  normal  percentage  on  all  his 
actual  sales  of  certificates  for  the  city  at  par  (he  would 
have  to  have  that  in  order  to  keep  straight  with  the 
stock  exchange);  but  beyond  that,  and  for  all  the  other 
necessary  manipulative  sales,  of  which  there  would  be 
many,  he  would  depend  on  his  knowledge  of  the  stock 
market  to  reimburse  him.  And  if  Mr.  Stener  wanted  to 
speculate  with  him — well. 

Dark  as  this  transaction  may  seem  to  the  uninitiated,  it 
will  appear  quite  clear  to  those  who  know.  Manipula 
tive  tricks  have  always  been  worked  in  connection  with 
stocks  of  which  one  man  or  one  set  of  men  has  had  com 
plete  control.  It  was  no  different  from  what  has  since 
been  done  with  Erie,  Standard  Oil,  Copper,  Sugar,  Wheat, 
and  what  not.  Cowperwood  was  one  of  the  earliest  and 
one  of  the  youngest  to  see  how  it  could  be  done.  When  he 
first  talked  to  Stener  he  was  twenty-eight  years  of  age. 
When  he  last  talked  to  him,  or  did  business  with  him,  he 
was  thirty-four.  Stener  put  himself  in  his  hands  as  a 

179 


THE    FINANCIER 

child  confides  itself  to  a  nurse.  He  could  not  see  how 
this  subtle  young  man  looked  upon  him.  He  only  knew 
that  Cowperwood  had  worked  out  a  successful  plan  for 
the  solution  of  his  difficulties,  and  that  he  was  delighted 
to  have  the  privilege  of  trying  it. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THIIE  houses  and  the  bank-front  of  Cowperwood  & 
1  Co.  had  been  proceeding  apace.  The  latter  was 
a  thought  of  Cowperwood 's  modified  by  Ellsworth. 
It  was  early  Florentine  in  its  decorations,  reserved  and 
refined,  with  windows  which  grew  narrower  as  they  ap 
proached  the  roof,  and  a  door  of  wrought  iron  set  between 
delicately  carved  posts,  and  a  straight  lintel  of  brown- 
stone.  It  was  low  in  height  and  distinguished.  In  the 
center  panel  had  been  hammered  a  hand,  delicately 
wrought,  thin  and  artistic,  holding  aloft  a  flaming  brand. 
The  latter,  Ellsworth  informed  him,  had  formerly  been  a 
money-changer's  sign  used  by  a  small  and  successful 
group  of  usurers  in  Venice,  but  long  since  fallen  into  the 
limbo  of  nothingness.  Here  it  would  look  quaint.  Cow 
perwood  approved,  for,  in  spite  of  his  financial  subtlety 
and  money  tendency  generally,  this  idea  of  the  refining 
influence  of  art  appealed  to  him  greatly.  He  sympathized 
with  the  artistic  spirit,  believed  that  after  wealth  and 
feminine  beauty  it  was  the  one  great  thing.  Perhaps 
wealth  and  beauty  and  material  art  forms — the  arts  and 
crafts  of  the  world — were  indissolubly  linked.  Sometimes, 
as  he  looked  at  life — the  mere  current,  visible  scene — it 
seemed  intensely  artistic.  A  snow-storm  outside  his  win 
dow,  a  crowd  of  men  on  'change,  the  full-sailed  boats 
coming  up  the  Delaware — he  had  not  much  time  for  these 
things,  he  was  so  busy,  but  they  were  beautiful.  Once 
he  saw  a  great,  disheveled,  dusty,  and  blood-stained  com 
pany  of  men  returning  from  Gettysburg,  their  knapsacks 
awry,  their  blankets  dirty,  their  arms  or  foreheads  or 
legs  roughly  bandaged  in  several  instances,  and  he  thought 

181 


THE    FINANCIER 

this  would  make  a  great  battle  picture.  If  he  were  an 
artist,  now !  But  he  wasn't,  and  so,  after  a  few  minutes, 
he  put  the  thought  briskly  aside.  But  these  things  were 
haunting  him  at  odd  moments,  and  he  thought,  once 
he  was  indestructibly  rich,  he  would  probably  come  to 
live  in  a  very  notable  manner,  not  grandiose,  but  beauti 
ful. 

So  the  new  bank  building  was  done  over  in  a  very  sim 
ple  and  yet  impressive  way,  with  an  interior  quite  differ 
ent  from  anything  else  in  the  street,  for  it  was  all  highly 
polished  hardwood  stained  in  imitation  of  the  gray 
lichens  which  infest  trees,  but  in  a  somewhat  lower  key. 
Large  sheets  of  clear,  beveled  glass  were  used,  some  oval, 
some  oblong,  some  square,  and  some  circular,  following 
a  given  theory  of  eye  movement.  The  fixtures  for  the 
gas-jets  were  modeled  after  the  early  Roman  flame- 
brackets,  and  the  office  safe  was  made  an  ornament, 
raised  on  a  marble  platform  at  the  back  of  the  office  and 
lacquered  a  silver-gray,  with  Cowperwood  &  Co.  let 
tered  on  it  in  gold.  One  had  a  sense  of  great  reserve, 
taste,  and  beauty  pervading  this  place,  and  yet  it  was 
also  inestimably  prosperous,  solid,  and  assuring.  Cowper 
wood,  when  he  viewed  it  at  its  completion,  complimented 
Ellsworth  cheerily.  "This  is  really  beautiful,"  he  said. 
"It's  delightful.  It  will  be  a  pleasure  to  work  here.  If 
those  houses  are  going  to  be  anything  like  this,  they  will 
be  perfect." 

"Wait  till  you  see  them.  I  think  you  should  be  pleased, 
Mr.  Cowperwood.  I  am  taking  especial  pains  with  yours 
because  it  is  smaller.  It  is  really  easier  to  treat  your 
father's.  But  yours — "  He  went  off  into  a  description 
of  the  entrance-hall,  reception-room,  and  parlor,  which 
he  was  arranging  and  decorating  in  such  a  way  as  to  give 
an  effect  of  size  and  dignity  not  really  conformable  to  the 
actual  space. 

Cowperwood  looked  at  this  young  man,  who  frequently 
drove  to  the  office  to  consult  him,  or  met  him  at  the  spot 

182 


THE    FINANCIER 

where  the  houses  were  in  process  of  erection,  and  felt  a  warm, 
kindly  feeling  for  him.  He  was  following  a  line  of  work 
which  seemed  delightfully  dignified,  worth  while,  and 
essential.  Art  must  have  its  devotees.  If  this  boy  were 
so  beautifully  minded  as  to  be  important  and  successful 
in  his  field,  he  ought  to  be  well  paid  for  his  taste.  It 
was  pleasant  to  have  such  men  to  deal  with.  As  in  his 
youth,  he  had  no  thought  of  stinting  money.  His  idea 
of  making  money  was  not  by  saving.  One  had  to  think 
of  large,  productive  things  to  do  and  then  pay  liberally 
for  their  execution. 

When  the  houses  were  finished  they  were  really  charm 
ing  things  to  look  upon.  They  were  quite  different  from 
the  conventional  residences  of  the  street.  The  architect 
had  borrowed  a  note  from  the  Gothic,  or  rather  Tudor, 
theory  of  art,  not  so  elaborated  as  the  style  later  became, 
in  many  of  the  residences  in  Philadelphia  and  elsewhere; 
but  still  ornate  and  picturesque.  His  idea  was  to  have 
the  facades  of  the  two  residences  blend  as  one.  The 
most  striking  features  in  each  instance  were  rather  deep- 
recessed  doorways  under  wide,  low,  slightly  floreated 
arches,  and  three  projecting  windows  of  rich  form,  one 
on  the  second  floor  of  Frank's  house,  two  on  the  fagade 
of  his  father's.  There  were  six  gables  showing  on  the 
front  of  the  two  houses,  two  on  Frank's  and  four  on  his 
father's.  In  the  front  of  each  house  on  the  ground  floor 
was  a  recessed  window  unconnected  with  the  recessed 
doorways,  formed  by  setting  the  inner  external  wall  back 
from  the  outer  face  of  the  building.  This  window  looked 
out  through  an  arched  opening  to  the  street,  and  was 
protected  by  a  dwarf  parapet  or  balustrading.  It  was 
possible  to  set  potted  vines  and  flowers  here,  which  was 
later  done,  giving  a  pleasant  sense  of  greenery  from  the 
street,  and  to  place  about  a  few  chairs,  which  were  reached 
via  heavily  barred  French  casements. 

Ellsworth,  because  Frank's  house  was  the  smaller  of 
the  two,  advised  that  it  be  placed  on  the  corner — for  these 

183 


THE    FINANCIER 

were  corner  lots  on  which  they  were  building.  He 
pointed  out  that  Frank's  father  would  have  the  advan 
tage  of  the  west  light  (the  building  faced  south),  because 
the  two  houses  were  to  be  separated  by  a  space  of  twenty 
feet  laid  out  as  a  greensward.  He  extended  a  glass  win 
dow  twenty-four  inches  outside  of  Frank's  west  wall, 
which  commanded  the  side  street  for  a  distance  of  twenty 
feet  on  the  second  floor,  and  placed  within  a  library  and 
reading-room,  making  it  habitable  by  stained  glass  of  a 
low,  soothing  key.  On  the  ground  floor  of  each  house 
he  placed  a  conservatory  for  flowers  facing  each  other, 
and  in  the  yard,  which  was  jointly  used,  he  placed  a 
pool  of  white  marble  eight  feet  in  diameter,  with  a  mar 
ble  Cupid  upon  which  jets  of  water  played  from  concealed 
pipes,  gurgling  for  joy.  The  yard,  which  was  inclosed  by 
a  high  but  pierced  wall  of  green-gray  brick,  especially 
burnt  for  this  purpose  the  same  color  as  the  granite  of 
the  house  and  surmounted  by  a  white  marble  coping, 
was  sown  to  grass,  and  had  a  lovely,  smooth,  velvety 
appearance.  The  two  houses,  as  originally  planned, 
were  connected  by  a  low,  green-columned  pergola  which 
could  be  inclosed  in  winter  in  glass.  The  interior  was 
decorated  after  periods,  or  styles,  and  much  attention  was 
given  to  this  matter. 

These  rooms,  which  were  now  slowly  being  decorated 
and  furnished  for  the  arrival  of  the  Cowperwoods,  particu 
larly  for  the  arrival  of  the  son,  though  the  father  was  im 
portant  also,  were  very  significant  in  that  they  enlarged 
and  strengthened  Frank  Cowperwood's  idea  of  the  art 
of  the  world  in  general.  It  was  a  comforting  experience 
to  Frank  Cowperwood,  and  one  which  made  for  artistic 
and  intellectual  growth,  to  hear  Ellsworth  explain  at 
length  the  styles  and  types  of  architecture  and  furniture, 
the  nature  of  woods  and  ornaments  employed,  the  quali 
ties  and  peculiarities  of  hangings,  draperies,  furniture 
panels,  and  floor  coverings.  Ellsworth  was  a  student  of 
decoration  as  well  as  of  architecture,  and  interested  in 

184 


THE    FINANCIER 

the  artistic  taste  of  the  American  people,  which  he  fancied 
some  time  would  have  a  splendid  outcome.  He  was 
wearied  to  death  of  the  prevalent  Romanesque  composite 
combinations  of  country  and  suburban  villa,  so  called, 
which  were  plentiful.  The  time  was  ripe  for  something 
new.  He  scarcely  knew  what  it  would  be;  but  this  that 
he  had  figured  out  for  Cowperwood  and  his  father  was  dif 
ferent,  while  at  the  same  time  being  pleasing,  simple, 
and  reserved.  It  was  in  marked  contrast  to  the  rest  of  the 
architecture  of  the  street.  Cowperwood's  dining-room, 
reception-room,  conservatory,  and  butler's  pantry  he  had 
put  on  the  first  floor,  together  with  the  general  entry-hall, 
staircase,  and  coat-room  under  the  stairs.  For  the  sec 
ond  floor  he  had  reserved  the  library,  general  living-room, 
parlor,  and  a  small  office  for  Cowperwood,  together  with 
a  boudoir  for  madame,  connected  with  a  dressing-room 
and  bath.  On  the  third  floor,  neatly  divided  and  ac 
commodated  with  baths  and  dressing-rooms,  were  the 
nursery,  the  servants'  quarters,  and  several  guest-cham 
bers.  Ellsworth  showed  Cowperwood  books  of  designs 
containing  furniture,  hangings,  etageres,  cabinets,  ped 
estals,  and  some  exquisite  piano  forms.  He  discussed 
woods  with  him — rosewood,  mahogany,  walnut,  English 
oak,  bird's-eye  maple,  and  the  manufactured  effects  such 
as  ormolu,  marquetry,  and  Boule,  or  buhl.  He  explained 
the  latter — how  difficult  it  was  to  produce,  how  unsuitable 
it  was  in  some  respects  for  this  climate,  the  brass  and 
tortoise-shell  inlay  coming  to  swell  with  the  heat  or  damp, 
and  so  bulging  or  breaking.  He  told  of  the  difficulties 
and  disadvantages  of  certain  finishes,  but  finally  recom 
mended  ormolu  furniture  for  the  reception-room,  medal 
lion  tapestry  for  the  parlor,  French  renaissance  for  the 
dining-room  and  library,  and  bird's-eye  maple  (dyed  blue 
in  one  instance,  and  left  its  natural  color  in  another)  and 
a  rather  lightly  constructed  but  daintily  carved  walnut 
for  the  other  rooms.  The  hangings,  wall-paper,  and  floor 
coverings  were  to  harmonize — not  match — and  the  piano 
7  185 


THE    FINANCIER 

and  music-cabinet  for  the  parlor,  as  well  as  the  etagere, 
cabinets,  and  pedestals  for  the  reception-rooms,  were  to 
be  of  buhl  or  marquetry,  if  Frank  cared  to  stand  the  ex 
pense.  Ellsworth  advised  him  to  obtain  a  triangular 
piano  if  he  could  afford  it — the -square  shapes  were  so 
inexpressibly  wearisome  to  the  initiated.  Cowperwood 
listened  fascinated,  for  this  architect  appealed  to  him  in 
his  every  instinct,  and  he  foresaw  a  home  which  would 
be  chaste,  soothing,  and  delightful  to  look  upon.  If  he 
hung  pictures,  gilt  frames  were  to  be  the  setting,  large 
and  deep;  and  if  he  wished  a  picture-gallery,  the  library 
could  be  turned  into  that,  and  the  general  living-room, 
which  lay  between  the  library  and  the  parlor  on  the 
second  floor,  could  be  turned  into  a  combination  library 
and  living-room.  This  was  eventually  done;  but  not 
until  his  taste  for  pictures  had  considerably  advanced. 

It  was  now  that  Cowperwood  began  to  take  a  keen 
interest  in  objects  of  art,  pictures,  bronzes,  little  carvings 
and  figurines,  which  by  degrees  he  began  to  hear  of  and 
which  he  now  needed,  a  few  for  his  cabinets,  pedestals, 
tables,  and  etageres.  During  the  few  years  he  had  been 
living  in  North  Front  Street  he  had  learned  a  little— not 
much.  Now,  however,  the  size  and  quality  of  this  house 
and  his  father's  emphasized  the  point,  and  he  began  to 
look  about  him.  Philadelphia  did  not  hold  much  that 
was  distinguished  in  this  realm — certainly  not  in  the  open 
market.  There  were  many  private  houses  which  were 
enriched  by  private  travel;  but  his  connection  with  the 
best  families  was  as  yet  small.  He  had  connections  which 
were  gradually  leading  to  them,  if  he  but  chose  to  follow 
carefully;  but  he  was  not  sure  that  he  cared  to.  The 
finely  veneered  social  type  was  rather  foreign  to  his 
mood.  He  was  not  at  all  interested  in  books,  feeling  life 
to  be  so  much  more  worth  while;  but  he  filled  his  hand 
some  case  with  recommended  sets  of  the  masters.  He 
helped  his  father  hunt  for  things  with  which  to  soften 
and  decorate  his  much  larger  rooms,  and  in  so  doing 

186 


THE    FINANCIER 

learned  many  things  concerning  furniture,  decorations, 
pictures,  and  art  objects  which  he  had  not  previously 
known.  There  were  then  two  famous  American  sculp 
tors,  Powers  and  Hosmer,  of  whose  work  he  had  examples; 
but  Ellsworth  told  him  that  they  were  not  the  last  word 
in  sculpture,  and  that  he  should  look  into  the  merits  of 
the  ancients.  He  began  to  wish  that  he  were  the  possessor 
of  art  figures  by  them.  His  black  Italian  pedestals  were 
as  yet  empty.  He  finally  secured  a  head  of  David,  by 
Thorwaldsen,  which  delighted  him,  and  some  landscapes, 
by  Hunt,  Sully,  and  Hart,  which  seemed  somewhat  in 
the  spirit  of  his  new  world. 

It  is  curious  what  the  effect  of  a  house  of  this  char 
acter  will  be  on  a  man.  We  think  we  are  individual, 
separate,  above  houses  and  material  objects  generally; 
but  there  is  a  subtle  connection  which  makes  them  re 
flect  us  quite  as  much  as  we  reflect  them,  and  vice  versa. 
A  man  in  a  way  is  the  shadow  of  his  possessions  and  deeds, 
quite  as  much  as  they  are  a  projection  or  reflection  of 
him.  The  twain  are  indissolubly  linked.  They  grow  as 
a  tree  and  its  shade.  The  man  is  stronger  for  his  pos 
sessions,  and  his  possessions  are  stronger  for  the  man. 
They  lend  dignity,  subtlety,  force,  each  to  the  other,  and 
what  beauty,  or  lack  of  it,  there  is  is  shot  back  and  forth 
from  one  to  the  other  as  a  shuttle  in  a  loom,  weaving, 
weaving.  Cut  the  thread,  separate  a  man  from  that  which 
is  rightfully  his  own,  characteristic  of  him,  and  you  have 
a  peculiar  figure,  half  success,  half  failure,  much  as  a 
spider  without  its  web,  which  will  never  be  its  whole 
self  again  until  all  its  dignities  and  emoluments  (those 
things  in  which  it  believes  and  rejoices)  are  restored. 

Of  course  there  are  those  highly  spiritualized  char 
acters,  just  as  at  the  other  extreme  there  are  those  gross 
ly  material  ones,  which  by  their  over-emphasis  of  polar 
phases  establish,  while  seeming  to  discountenance,  the 
rule.  Of  Isaiah  and  Jeremiah  it  might  be  predicated 
that  they  do  not  require  the  eternal  hills  as  witness  of 

187 


THE    FINANCIER 

the  loftiness  of  their  souls,  but  they,  nevertheless,  require 
them.  Be  he  ever  so  innately  callous  and  brutal,  the 
butcher  or  the  executioner,  separated  from  his  ax  and 
the  atmosphere  of  blood  and  grime  surrounding  him, 
loses  much  of  his  savage  identity. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

IT  was  not  long  after  the  significant  arrangement  be 
tween  Treasurer  Stener  and  Cowperwood  had  been 
made  that  the  machinery  for  the  carrying  out  of  that 
political-financial  relationship  was  put  in  motion.  The 
sum  of  two  hundred  and  ten  thousand  dollars  in  six  per 
cent,  interest-bearing  certificates,  payable  in  ten  years, 
was  set  over  to  the  credit  of  Cowperwood  &  Co.  on 
the  books  of  the  city,  subject  to  his  order.  He  waited 
until  it  was  properly  listed  on  'change.  Then  through 
several  brokers  who  were  in  his  employ  he  began  to  offer 
small  amounts  at  more  than  ninety,  and  at  the  same 
time,  by  those  subtle  methods  known  to  the  stock-jobbing 
world — rumors,  wash  sales,  the  use  of  the  financial  column 
"da  the  financial  reporters,  and  so  on — attempted  to  create 
the  impression  that  it  was  going  to  be  a  prosperous  in 
vestment.  Various  people  were  supposed  to  have  pur 
chased  large  amounts  from  the  city,  but  were  not  willing 
to  let  go.  Whenever  one  of  these  small  lots  was  offered 
by  him  one  of  his  agents  picked  it  up,  offering  it  sometimes 
for  a  still  higher  price.  The  certificates  gradually  rose 
and  were  unloaded  in  rising  amounts  until  one  hundred 
was  reached,  when  all  the  two  hundred  thousand  dollars' 
worth — two  thousand  certificates  in  all — were  fed  out 
in  small  lots.  It  was  ticklish  business,  requiring  fre 
quent  repurchases  at  the  current  market  rate.  He  saw 
how  easy  it  would  be  to  slump  the  market  and  drive  the 
certificates  down  to  eighty  or  less,  if  he  wished,  but  he 
refrained  with  a  clear  idea  of  bigger  things  to  come  in 
the  future.  Stener  was  satisfied.  Two  hundred  shares 
had  been  carried  for  him  and  sold  at  one  hundred,  which 


THE    FINANCIER 

netted  him  two  thousand  dollars.  It  was  illegitimate 
gain,  unethical;  but  his  conscience  was  not  very  much 
troubled  by  that.  He  saw  visions  of  a  halcyon  future. 

It  is  difficult  to  make  perfectly  clear  what  a  subtle  and 
significant  power  this  suddenly  placed  in  the  hands  of 
Cowperwood.  Consider  that  he  was  only  twenty-eight 
— nearing  twenty-nine.  Imagine  Yourself  by  nature 
versed  in  the  arts  of  finance,  capable  of  playing  with 
sums  of  money  in  the  forms  of  stocks,  certificates,  bonds, 
and  cash,  as  the  ordinary  man  plays  with  checkers  or  chess. 
Or,  better  yet,  imagine  yourself  one  of  those  subtle  masters 
of  the  mysteries  of  the  higher  forms  of  chess — the  type 
of  mind  so  well  illustrated  by  the  famous  and  historic 
chess-players,  who  could  sit  with  their  backs  to  a  group 
of  rivals  playing  fourteen  men  at  once,  calling  out  all  the 
moves  in  turn,  remembering  all  the  positions  of  all  the 
men  on  all  the  boards,  and  winning.  This,  of  course, 
would  be  an  overstatement  of  the  subtlety  of  Frank 
Cowperwood  at  this  time,  and  yet  it  would  not  be  wholly 
out  of  key.  He  knew  instinctively  what  could  be  done 
with  a  given  sum  of  money — how  as  cash  it  could  be  de 
posited  in  one  place,  and  yet  as  credit  and  the  basis  of 
moving  checks,  used  in  not  one  but  many  other  places 
at  the  same  time.  When  properly  watched  and  followed 
this  manipulation  gave  one  the  constructive  and  pur 
chasing  power  of  ten  and  a  dozen  times  as  much  as  the 
original  sum  might  have  represented.  He  knew  in 
stinctively  the  principles  of  "pyramiding"  and  "kiting." 
He  could  see  exactly  not  only  how  he  could  raise  and  lower 
the  value  of  these  certificates  of  loan,  day  after  day  and 
year  after  year,  if  he  were  so  fortunate  as  to  retain  his 
hold  on  the  city  treasurer;  but,  seeing  that  he  was  to  have, 
ultimately,  all  of  the  issue  of  two  million,  and  that  he 
was  to  be  able  to  call  for  the  delivery  of  fifty,  seventy- 
five,  one  hundred,  one  hundred  and  fifty,  or  two  hun 
dred  thousand  dollars'  worth  of  city  loan  at  one  time,  to 
be  deposited  in  his  care  or  held  subject  to  his  order,  it 

190 


THE    FINANCIER 

gave  him  a  credit  with  the  banks  hitherto  beyond  his 
wildest  dreams.  His  father's  bank  was  one  of  the  first 
to  profit  by  this  and  to  extend  him  loans.  The  various 
politicians — Mollenhauer,  Butler,  Simpson,  and  others- 
seeing  the  success  of  his  efforts  in  this  direction,  speculated 
in  city  loan.  He  became  known  to  Mr.  Mollenhauer  and 
Mr.  Simpson,  by  reputation  if  not  personally,  as  the  man 
who  was  carrying  this  city  loan  proposition  to  a  successful 
issue.  Stener  was  supposed  to  have  done  a  clever  thing 
in  finding  him.  The  stock  exchange  stipulated  that  all 
trades  were  to  be  compared  the  same  day  and  settled 
before  the  close  of  the  next ;  but  this  working  arrangement 
with  the  new  city  treasurer  gave  Cowperwood  much  more 
latitude,  and  now  he  had  always  until  the  first  of  the 
month,  or  practically  thirty  days  at  times,  in  which  to 
render  an  accounting  for  all  deals  connected  with  the 
loan  issue. 

And,  moreover,  this  was  really  not  an  accounting  in  the 
sense  of  removing  anything  from  his  hands.  Since  the 
issue  was  to  be  so  large,  the  sum  at  his  disposal  would 
always  be  large,  and  so-called  transfers  and  balancing  at 
the  end  of  the  month  would  be  a  mere  matter  of  book 
keeping.  He  could  take  these  city  loan  certificates  de 
posited  with  him  for  manipulative  purposes  and  deposit 
them  at  any  bank  as  collateral  for  a  loan,  quite  as  if  they 
were  his  own,  thus  raising  seventy  per  cent,  of  their  actual 
value  in  cash,  and  he  did  not  hesitate  to  do  so.  He  could 
take  this  cash,  which  need  not  be  accounted  for  until  the 
end  of  the  month,  and  cover  other  stock  transactions, 
on  which  he  could  borrow  again.  There  was  no  limit 
to  the  resources  of  which  he  now  found  himself  possessed, 
except  the  resources  of  his  own  energy,  ingenuity,  and  the 
limits  of  time  in  which  he  had  to  work.  The  politicians 
did  not  realize  what  a  bonanza  he  was  making  of  it  all 
for  himself,  because  they  could  not  understand  the  sub 
tlety  of  his  mind.  When  Mr.  Stener  told  him,  after  talk 
ing  the  matter  over  with  the  mayor,  Strobik,  and  others 

191 


THE    FINANCIER 

who  were  advised  by  Butler,  Simpson,  and  Mollenhauer, 
that  he  would  formally,  during  the  course  of  the  year,  set 
over  on  the  city's  books  all  of  the  two  millions  in  city  loan, 
Cowperwood  was  delighted.  It  meant  enormous  transac 
tions  to  and  fro  between  himself  and  others.  It  was  not 
exactly  a  legitimate  matter.  Certain  officials  expected  to 
make  money  out  of  these  manipulated  rises  and  falls.  But 
it  was  legal,  anyhow.  No  criminal  intention  attached  to 
him,  and  it  certainly  was  not  his  money.  He  had  been 
called  in  as  a  financial  adviser,  and  he  had  given  his  ad 
vice.  Cowperwood  was  not  a  man  who  inherently  was 
troubled  with  conscientious  scruples.  He  believed  he  was 
financially  honest.  He  was  no  sharper  or  shrewder  than 
any  other  financier — certainly  no  sharper  than  any  other 
one  would  be  if  he  could.  On  the  day  he  received  word 
from  Stener  that  he  was  to  be  given  manipulative  control 
of  the  full  amount  of  city  loan,  he  sent  a  note  down 
the  street  to  his  father  asking  him  to  drive  home  with 
him,  and  on  the  way  they  discussed  his  wonderful  future. 
The  old  gentleman  had  not  heard  any  of  the  details  of 
this  before,  and  was  dazzled.  He  looked  upon  his  son 
as  a  very  remarkable  person — extraordinary.  He  tried 
to  be  impartial,  hoped  he  would  be,  but  somehow  his  son 
seemed  to  know  more  and  see  farther. 

"What  do  you  think  of  that,  father?"  Frank  asked, 
his  own  conclusions  reached  long  before. 

The  old  gentleman  weighed  all  the  facts  judicially, 
thinking  that  his  own  opinion  was  exceedingly  impor 
tant.  He  sat  bolt  upright  as  he  drove,  his  hands  incased 
in  new  leather  driving-gloves,  his  body  tightly  fitted  into 
a  frock-coat.  He  wore  a  high  silk  hat,  and  his  side- 
whiskers — mutton-chops  they  were  derisively  termed — 
were  brushed  out  in  little  fluffy  gray  tufts.  His  eyebrows 
were  heavy  and  shaded,  and  marked  his  eyes  in  a  distinc 
tive  way.  He  had  always  a  smoothly  shaven  face,  the 
bare  upper  lip  of  which  seemed  long. 

"Why,  it  seems  all  right  to  me,  Frank.  You  know 

192 


THE    FINANCIER 

what  money  is  bringing;  it's  a  good  risk,  I  think;  it  looks 
to  me  that  that  ought  to  work  out." 

Frank  was  constantly  running  to  his  father's  bank  for 
money,  and  he  would  usually  warn  him  the  day  before 
when  he  was  going  to  draw  heavily.  "I'm  coming  down 
on  you  to-morrow  for  fifty  thousand.  Do  you  think  you 
can  let  me  have  so  much?" 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,"  the  old  gentleman  replied.  "I 
guess  you're  good  for  it." 

He  was  so  proud  of  this  sturdy  youth,  the  only  one  of 
his  sons  who  had  real  financial  talent,  that  his  good 
judgment  was  in  danger.  Ed  and  Joe  were  good  boys, 
but  not  brilliant  like  Frank. 

One  night  Frank  said  to  his  father:  "If  you  want  to 
carry  a  little  'city  loan  '  now  I  can  show  you  how  to 
make  some  money." 

Frank  would  never  have  invited  his  father  except  that 
he  felt  so  sure.  Besides,  every  buyer  holding  for  a  rise 
was  a  valuable  adjunct  at  this  time. 

"I  oughtn't  to  speculate.  I  never  have,"  his  father 
said  to  him;  "but  at  the  same  time  I  cannot  help  but 
feel  that  this  is  all  right — quite  another  thing  from  ordi 
nary  speculation.  You  have  made  such  an  advantageous 
arrangement  here."  It  was  notorious  that  the  "city  deals" 
were  profitable.  Others  had  made  thousands  and  hun 
dreds  of  thousands  out  of  inside  combinations  with  the  city. 

"  I  haven't  ever  done  it  before;  but  if  you  want  to  put 
me  down  for  five  or  six  hundred  shares,  it's  all  right.  Is 
that  enough?" 

"Say  five  hundred.  The  money's  as  good  as  in  your 
pocket." 

Frank  did  not  want  to  hold  his  father  out  long,  and 
after  listing  him  on  his  books  closed  him  out  at  a  profit 
of  three  points.  It  netted  the  old  gentleman  fifteen  hun 
dred  dollars.  It  tickled  him  immensely;  but  Frank  was 
unkind  in  that  he  ever  dragged  his  father  into  his  affairs 
at  all 


THE    FINANCIER 

Young  Cowperwood  was  one  of  those  men  whom  in 
coming  possessions  were  widening  and  hourly  making  more 
significant.  The  sight  of  his  new  house  going  up  made 
him  feel  of  more  weight  in  the  world,  and  the  pos 
session  of  his  suddenly  achieved  connection  with  the  city 
treasurer  was  as  though  a  wide  door  had  been  thrown 
open  to  the  Elysian  fields  of  opportunity.  He  rode  about 
the  city  those  days  behind  a  spirited  team  of  bays,  whose 
glossy  hides  and  shining  metaled  harness  bespoke  the 
watchful  care  of  hostler  and  coachman.  Ellsworth  was 
building  him  and  his  father  an  attractive  stable  in  the 
little  side  street  back  of  the  house,  which  they  were  to 
occupy  jointly.  He  told  Mrs.  Cowperwood  that  he  in 
tended  to  buy  her  a  victoria — as  the  low,  open,  four- 
wheeled  coach  was  then  known — as  soon  as  they  were  well 
settled  in  their  new  home,  and  that  they  were  to  go  out 
more.  There  was  some  plain  talk  about  entertaining — 
the  value  of  it — and  that  he  would  have  to  reach  out 
socially  for  certain  individuals  who  were  not  now  known 
to  him.  He  found,  as  he  said,  that  there  had  to  be  give- 
and-take  in  these  matters,  and  that  if  they  were  enter 
tained  by  people  of  distinction  they  had  to  return  these 
entertainments  in  the  same  spirit  and  on  the  same  scale. 
All  these  years  for  one  so  young  he  had  been  holding  ex 
ceedingly  close  to  his  financial  affairs;  but,  now  that 
things  were  beginning  to  broaden  out  so  rapidly,  it  was 
to  be  somewhat  different.  He  and  his  wife  would  enjoy 
life  a  little  more.  Together  with  Anna,  his  sister,  and  his 
two  brothers,  Joseph  and  Edward,  they  would  use  the  two 
houses  jointly.  There  was  no  reason  why  Anna  might 
not  make  a  splendid  match.  Joe  and  Ed  might  marry 
well,  since  they  were  not  destined  to  set  the  world  on  fire 
in  commerce.  At  least  it  would  not  hurt  them  to  try. 
He  and  Lillian  were  destined  to  go  out  more — he  could 
see  it  coming — but,  alas !  he  could  also  see  that  she  would 
not  make  the  figure  he  had  once  thought  she  would.  She 
was  charming  to  look  at,  but  not  brilliant;  and  the  chil- 

194 


THE    FINANCIER 

dren — well,  the  children  detained  her  more  than  they 
would  some  women. 

"Don't  you  think  you  will  like  that?"  he  asked  her 
once,  curiously. 

She  smiled  wanly.  "I  suppose  so,"  she  said.  She 
took  a  dignified,  peaceful  interest  in  her  home  which — he 
felt  sure — would  not  bear  the  strain  of  great  social  en 
deavor. 

It  is  curious  how  a  thought  like  this  weakens  the  in 
terest  of  the  average  ambitious  man  in  a  woman.  Am 
bition  mounts  as  a  great  strain  in  some  hearts.  Usually 
it  is  the  feminine  in  so  far  as  social  distinction  is  concerned ; 
but  ever  and  anon,  in  the  American  social  cosmos,  the 
social,  commercial,  and  artistic  type  combines  in  some 
forceful  male  who  does  not  require  the  social  ambition 
of  a  woman  to  egg  him  on.  It  may  be  quite  the  other  way 
about,  and  the  very  lack  of  a  helpmeet  suitable  to  the 
varied  dreams  of  advancement  which  germinate  and  swim 
in  a  temperament  of  this  kind  may  cause  friction  of  a 
violent  and  sometimes  disastrous  character.  Cowper- 
wood  was  not  of  a  violent  strain,  however.  He  merely 
perceived,  as  he  went  forward  financially,  that  there  was 
a  social  face  to  this  problem — that  men  who  hobnobbed 
with  each  other  socially  as  well  as  financially  were  in  some 
ways  stronger,  securer,  more  ''in  on  things"  than  those 
who  did  not.  There  was  a  financial  ring  in  Philadelphia, 
which  had  its  social  counterpart  in  the  west  end  of  the 
city  and  in  the  suburbs.  Great  financiers  were  in  many 
cases  very  close  to  each  other  in  their  home  relations; 
there  were  balls,  parties,  marriages,  christenings,  and  sum 
mer  and  winter  hegiras  in  which  the  same  people,  closely 
related  socially  and  financially,  took  part.  Cowperwood 
saw  the  names  of  various  sons  and  daughters  of  men  he 
knew  to  be  prominent  in  Third  Street,  together  with  their 
wives  and  relatives,  listed  as  participants  in  this  and  that 
function  over  and  over.  His  father,  because  of  his  presi 
dency  of  the  Third  National  Bank,  was  already  gingerly 

195 


THE    FINANCIER 

admitted  to  certain  commonplace  and  private  evenings 
at  certain  of  these  well-to-do  homes;  but  this  was  nothing. 
It  was  too  late.  His  father  was  already  too  old — past 
fifty,  and  it  did  not  interest  him  any  more.  His  princi 
pal  interest  in  the  new  home  was  the  social  and  financial 
prestige  it  would  give  his  sons  and  daughter.  This  was 
equally  true  of  Frank's  mother.  But  in  his  own  case  it 
was  somewhat  different.  He  was  twenty-nine.  Now 
that  he  was  beginning  to  live  in  his  new  home,  and  to 
do  business  in  his  new  banking  office,  he  might  expect 
some  notable  results.  Money  was  now  coming  to  him 
rather  swiftly.  In  the  last  six  months  he  had  made  over 
thirty  thousand  dollars,  and  he  believed  he  saw  his  way 
to  making  over  a  hundred  thousand  in  the  year,  or  cer 
tainly  in  the  next  two.  Stener,  at  the  instigation  of 
others  behind  him,  had  already  approached  him  with  a 
plan  whereby  he  might  be  willing  to  loan  him  a  certain 
amount  of  city  funds  entirely  apart  from  the  city  loan, 
which  he  already  controlled — ready  cash  at,  say,  two  per 
cent. — wherewith  they  might  endeavor  to  get  control  of 
certain  railway  stocks.  Frank  did  not  know  who  was 
back  of  Stener  in  this;  but  he  did  know  it  could  not  be 
the  city  treasurer  alone.  He  had  no  courage. 

It  should  be  said  here  that  this  proposition  of  Stener's 
in  regard  to  city  money,  very  veiled  at  first  and  bearing 
apparently  no  relationship  to  city  funds,  bore  no  connec 
tion  with  the  attitude  of  the  principal  leaders  in  local 
politics,  in  regard  to  this  same  subject,  unscrupulous  as 
this  attitude  was.  As  has  been  said,  they  themselves  had 
been  using  city  money  to  make  big  loans  to  favorite 
banks,  using  the  subterfuge  of  designating  them  as  de 
positories  for  city  funds ;  but  Cowperwood's  was  not  one 
of  these.  Messrs.  Mollenhauer,  Butler,  and  Simpson 
were  interested  in  street-railways  separately,  on  their 
own  account.  There  was  no  understanding  between 
them  on  this  score.  If  they  had  thought  at  all  on  the 
matter  they  would  have  decided  that  they  did  not  want 

196 


THE    FINANCIER 

any  outsider  to  interfere.  As  a  matter  of  fact  the  street- 
railway  business  in  Philadelphia  was  not  sufficiently  de 
veloped  at  this  time  to  suggest  to  any  one  the  grand 
scheme  of  union  which  came  later.  This  proposition  of 
Stener's  was  due  entirely  to  Strobik,  who,  seeing  how 
things  were  going  generally,  but  without  the  capacity  of  a 
Mollehhauer  or  a  Simpson,  was  anxious  to  further  his 
own  affairs.  Nevertheless,  he  did  not  care  to  appear  in 
the  matter.  Like  Cowperwood  he  thought  it  was  a  good 
idea  to  use  Stener  as  a  catspaw.  He  did  not  realize  the 
subtlety  of  the  man  to  whom  he  was  sending  Stener. 
His  plan  was  to  get  Stener  to  buy,  through  Cowperwood, 
sufficient  street-railway  shares  in  any  given  line  to  control 
it,  and  then,  if  he  could,  by  efforts  of  his  own,  to  get  the  city 
council  to  set  aside  certain  streets  for  its  extension.  This 
had  to  be  done  very  carefully,  because  naturally  his  supe 
riors  were  watchful,  and  if  they  found  him  dabbling  in 
affairs  of  this  kind  to  his  own  advantage,  they  might 
make  it  impossible  for  him  to  continue  politically  in  a 
position  where  he  could  help  himself.  Any  outside  or 
ganization  such  as  a  street-railway  company  already  in 
existence  had  a  right  to  appeal  to  the  city  council  for 
privileges  which  would  naturally  further  the  growth,  and, 
other  things  being  equal,  these  could  not  be  refused.  It 
would  not  do,  however,  for  him  as  a  recognized  share 
holder  and  president  of  council  to  appear  in  the  matter. 
But  with  Cowperwood  acting  privately  for  Stener  it 
would  be  another  thing.  Because  of  what  he  could  do  in 
the  future  politically,  and  because  Stener  needed  some 
one  on  whom  he  could  lean  before  he  could  be  induced  to 
act  at  all,  Strobik  knew  that  he  could  induce  Stener  to 
give  him  a  share  in  anything  which  the  use  of  city  money 
in  this  way  would  bring  about.  Hence  the  proposition 
which  Stener  made  to  Cowperwood. 

The  interesting  thing  about  this  proposition  of  Mr. 
Stener's  was  that  it  raised,  without  appearing  to  do  so,  the 
whole  question  of  Cowperwood's  attitude  toward  the  city 

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THE    FINANCIER 

administration.  Although  he  was  dealing  privately  for 
Edward  Butler  as  an  agent,  and  although  he  had  never 
met  either  Mollenhauer  or  Simpson,  the  rumored  con 
trolling  powers  of  the  city,  he  nevertheless  felt  that  in 
so  far  as  the  manipulation  of  the  city  loan  was  concerned 
he  was  acting  for  them.  That  is,  they  were  making  money 
from  the  tips  and  information  which  were  constantly 
issuing  from  his  office.  In  this  matter  of  the  private 
street-railway  purchase  which  Stener  now  brought  to  him 
he  realized  from  the  very  beginning,  by  Stener's  attitude, 
that  there  was  something  untoward  in  it,  that  Stener  felt 
he  was  doing  something  which  he  ought  not  to  do. 

"Cowperwood,"  he  said  to  him  the  first  morning  he 
ever  broached  this  matter — it  was  in  Stener's  office,  at 
the  old  city  hall  at  Sixth  and  Chestnut,  and  Stener  was 
feeling  very  good  indeed  in  view  of  his  oncoming  prosperity 
— "isn't  there  some  street-railway  property  around  town 
here  that  a  man  could  buy  in  on  and  get  control  of  if  he 
had  sufficient  money?" 

This  was  exactly  the  way  that  Edward  Strobik  had  ad 
dressed  Stener  on  the  subject  some  three  weeks  before, 
when  he  had  begun  with  Machiavellian  subtlety  to  sug 
gest  the  deed. 

Cowperwood  knew  that  there  were  such  properties. 
His  very  alert  mind  had  long  since  sensed  the  general 
opportunities  here.  The  omnibuses  were  slowly  dis 
appearing.  The  best  routes  were  already  pre-empted. 
Still,  as  Cowperwood  was  quick  to  perceive  and  point 
out,  there  were  other  streets,  and  the  city  was  growing. 
The  incoming  population  would  make  great  business  in 
the  future.  One  could  afford  to  pay  almost  any  price  for 
the  short  lines  already  built  if  one  could  wait  and  extend 
the  lines  into  larger  and  better  areas  later.  Anyhow,  he 
had  already  conceived  in  his  own  mind  the  theory  of  the 
"endless  chain,"  or  "agreeable  formula,"  as  some  one  has 
called  it — namely,  that  of  buying  a  certain  property  on  a 
long-time  payment  and  issuing  stocks  or  bonds  sufficient 

198 


THE    FINANCIER 

not  only  to  pay  your  seller,  but  to  reimburse  you  for  your 
trouble,  to  say  nothing  of  giving  you  a  margin  wherewith 
to  invest  in  other  things — allied  properties,  for  instance, 
against  which  more  bonds  could  be  issued,  and  so  on, 
ad  infinitum.  It  is  an  old  story  now,  but  it  was  new  then, 
and  he  kept  the  thought  closely  to  himself.  He  was  glad 
to  have  Stener  speak  of  this  matter,  though,  for  street- 
railways  were  his  hobby,  and  he  was  convinced  from  look 
ing  at  them  that  he  would  be  a  great  master  of  them  if  he 
ever  had  an  opportunity  to  control  them. 

"Why,  yes,  George,"  he  said,  non-committally,  "  there 
are  two  or  three  that  offer  a  good  chance  if  a  man  had 
money  enough.  It  would  take  a  good  deal  of  money  unless 
you  wanted  to  go  rather  slow.  I  notice  blocks  of  stock  be 
ing  offered  on  'change  now  and  then  by  one  person  and 
another.  It  would  be  good  policy  to  pick  these  things 
up  as  they're  offered,  and  then  to  see  later  if  some  of 
the  other  stockholders  won't  want  to  sell  out.  Green 
and  Coates,  now,  looks  like  a  good  proposition  to  me. 
If  I  had  three  or  four  hundred  thousand  dollars  that  I 
thought  I  could  put  into  that  by  degrees  I  would  follow 
it  up.  It  only  takes  about  thirty  per  cent,  of  the  stock 
of  any  railroad  to  control  it.  Most  of  the  shares  are 
scattered  around  so  far  and  wide  that  they  never  vote, 
and  I  think  two  or  three  hundred  thousand  dollars  would 
control  this  road."  He  spoke  of  one  or  two  other  lines 
that  might  possibly  be  secured  in  the  same  way  in  the 
course  of  time. 

Stener  meditated.  " That's  a  good  deal  of  money,"  he 
said,  thoughtfully.  "I'll  talk  to  you  about  that  some 
more  later." 

Cowperwood  knew  that  Stener  did  not  have  any  two 
or  three  hundred  thousand  dollars  to  invest  in  anything. 
There  was  only  one  way  that  he  could  get  it — and  that 
was  to  loan  it  out  of  the  city  treasury  and  forego  the 
interest.  This  thought  did  not  trouble  Cowperwood  any 
at  the  moment.  He  knew  that  the  larger  politicians  were 

199 


THE    FINANCIER 

using  the  treasury,  only  in  a  more  subtle  way.  Stener 
had  never  interested  him  as  an  individual.  He  was  merely 
an  opportunity  to  him.  He  was  thinking  now,  though, 
of  his  own  attitude  in  regard  to  the  use  of  this 
money.  No  harm  could  come  to  him,  Cowperwood,  if 
Stener's  ventures  were  successful;  and  there  was  no 
reason  why  they  should  not  be.  Even  if  they  were  not, 
he  would  be  merely  acting  as  an  agent.  In  addition, 
he  saw  how  in  the  manipulation  of  this  money  for  Stener 
he  could  probably  eventually  control  certain  lines  for  him 
self. 

There  was  one  line  being  laid  out  to  within  a  few  blocks 
of  his  new  home — the  Seventeenth  and  Nineteenth  Street 
line  it  was  called — which  interested  him  greatly.  He 
rode  on  it  occasionally  when  he  was  delayed  or  did  not 
wish  to  trouble  about  a  vehicle.  It  ran  through  two 
thriving  streets  of  red-brick  houses,  and  was  destined  to 
have  a  great  future  once  the  city  grew  large  enough. 
As  yet  it  was  really  not  long  enough.  If  he  could  get 
that,  for  instance,  and  combine  it  with  Butler's  lines, 
once  they  were  secured — or  Mollenhauer's  or  Simpson's, 
the  legislature  could  be  induced  to  give  them  additional 
franchises.  He  even  dreamed  of  a  combination  between 
Butler,  Mollenhauer,  Simpson,  and  himself.  Between 
them,  politically,  they  could  get  anything.  But  Butler 
was  not  a  philanthropist.  He  would  have  to  be  approached 
with  a  very  sizable  bird  in  hand.  The  combination 
must  be  obviously  advisable.  Besides,  Frank  was  deal 
ing  for  Butler  in  street-railway  stocks  as  it  was,  and  if 
this  particular  line  were  such  a  good  thing  Butler  might 
wonder  why  it  had  not  been  brought  to  him  in  the  first 
place,  seeing  that  he  was  in  the  field  to  buy.  It  would 
be  better,  Frank  thought,  to  wait  until  he  actually  had 
it  as  his  own,  in  which  case  it  would  be  a  different  matter. 
Then  he  could  talk  as  a  capitalist.  He  began  to  dream  of 
a  city-wide  street-railway  system  controlled  by  a  few 
men,  or  preferably  him  alone. 

200 


THE    FINANCIER 

At  the  same  time,  he  reflected  that  this  plain  prop 
osition  of  handling  stolen  money — even  though  it  were 
not  admitted  that  it  was  stolen — was  something  that 
ought  not  to  be  undertaken  unadvisedly.  It  was  a  long 
road  he  had  traveled  since  the  days  he  had  worked 
for  Waterman  &  Co.  and  Tighe  &  Co.  He  was  a 
much  harder,  colder,  shrewder  person.  Stener  talked 
about  others,  whom  he  represented  as  wanting  to  invest, 
but  Cowperwood  knew  that  this  was  mere  talk.  The 
money  was  coming  from  the  treasury  direct  and  nowhere 
else.  The  matter  was  really  not  up  for  final  consideration 
as  yet.  In  a  general  way  he  fancied  that  if  Stener  wanted 
to  do  this  it  was  all  right.  He  would  keep  his  own  skirts 
as  clear  as  possible.  Nevertheless,  because  of  his  crafty 
attitude  toward  life,  his  judgment  troubled  him  a  little. 
Why  should  he  do  this  when  he  knew  that  the  money 
was  being  taken  without  the  knowledge  of  the  superior 
leaders  of  the  city  and  when  he  really  need  not  do  it? 
It  was  just  possible  that  this  transaction  might  cause  him 
a  little  trouble  at  some  time  or  other,  if  it  were  ever  found 
out.  The  other  deal  in  regard  to  city  loan  was  so  much 
more  normal  commercially.  The  loan  was  ordered  by 
city  council  and  sanctioned  by  all  the  powers  that  were. 
This  thing  which  Stener  proposed  was  something  else. 
Still  it  was  no  worse  than  a  score  of  other  tricks  that 
were  played  in  the  financial  world  and  which  were  quite 
satisfactory  in  their  result.  Why  not  in  this  case? 

The  days  that  had  been  passing  had  brought  him  and 
Aileen  Butler  somewhat  closer  together  in  spirit.  It  will 
shock  the  conventionally  sensitive  to  have  a  fact  so  sub 
versive  of  social  order  so  plainly  stated;  but  it  is  really 
better  so.  This  girl,  whom  he  had  first  seen  at  the  age 
of  fifteen,  when  he  called  at  Butler's  house,  and  who  had 
first  begun  to  show  herself  at  his  own  home  in  North 
Front  Street  when  she  was  seventeen,  was  now  nineteen, 
and  she  had  grown  into  some  subtle  thoughts  of  her  own. 

201 


THE    FINANCIER 

Because  of  the  pressure  of  his  growing  affairs  Cowper- 
wood  had  not  paid  so  much  attention  to  her  as  he  might 
have;  but  he  had  seen  her  often  this  last  year,  in  and 
out  of  his  home  in  North  Front  Street — he  had  not  moved 
as  yet — and  occasionally  at  her  father's  house,  where  he 
frequently  called.  The  Butler  home,  for  all  the  old  gentle 
man's  wealth,  was  not  in  the  least  what  it  should  have 
been,  was  commonplace  and  dull — almost  dingy  in  com 
parison  with  the  Cowperwoods'  old  home.  Its  interior  was 
so  badly  done  that  it  was  really  not  worth  talking  about. 

There  was  no  attempt  at  true,  artistic  harmony,  though 
notable  prices  had  been  paid  for  many  objects.  Such 
atrocities  as  exceedingly  heavy  leather-upholstered  furni 
ture  for  the  library,  salon-sized  chairs  and  hangings  of 
extra  heavy  plush  for  the  parlor,  a  reception-room  not 
simply  set  with  a  few  curio  cases  which  might  entertain, 
but  overfull  of  heavy  oak  furniture  after  the  fashion  of 
a  club  lobby,  were  instances  in  point.  The  pictures  were 
impossible,  and  the  furniture  in  some  instances  was  un 
matched.  It  was  really  not  Butler's  fault  entirely.  He  had 
asked  for  advice  in  the  beginning,  but  had  fallen  into  the 
hands  of  a  bad  architect.  Since  then  he  had  strayed  into 
odd  purchases  of  his  own — things  that  he  liked.  At  first 
Aileen,  the  older  of  the  two  girls,  had  not  noticed,  being 
so  young;  but  now  these  idiosyncrasies  and  homely 
variations  had  begun  to  irritate.  She  was  beginning 
to  see  what  the  difference  between  good  taste  and  bad 
taste  was.  Even  the  modest  little  home  of  the  Cowper 
woods  on  North  Front  Street  was  much  superior  in  the 
point  of  sweetness  and  harmony.  There  was  something 
elusively  delicate  about  it.  And  their  new  home,  which 
was  building  in  Girard  Avenue  quite  near  the  Butlers', 
was  obviously  distinguished. 

"Papa,  why  do  we  stay  in  this  old  barn?"  she  asked 
her  father  one  evening  at  dinner,  when  there  were 
gathered  the  usual  members  of  the  Butler  family — Owen, 
Callum,  Norah,  and  their  mother. 

202 


THE    FINANCIER 

"What's  the  matter  with  this  house,  I'd  like  to  know?" 
demanded  Butler,  who  was  drawn  up  close  to  the  table, 
his  napkin  tucked  comfortably  under  his  chin,  for  he  in 
sisted  on  this  when  company  was  not  present.  "I  don't 
see  anything  the  matter  with  this  house.  Your  mother 
and  I  manage  to  live  in  it  well  enough." 

"Oh,  it's  awful,  papa.  You  know  it,"  supplemented 
Norah,  who  was  seventeen  and  quite  as  bright  as  her 
sister,  though  a  little  less  experienced.  "Everybody  says 
so.  Look  at  all  the  nice  houses  that  are  being  built 
everywhere  about  here." 

"Everybody!  Everybody!  Who  is  'everybody,'  I'd 
like  to  know?"  demanded  Butler,  with  the  faintest  touch 
of  choler  and  much  humor.  "I'm  somebody,  and  I  like 
it.  Those  that  don't  like  it  don't  have  to  live  in  it. 
Who  are  they?  What's  the  matter  with  it,  I'd  like  to 
know?" 

The  question  in  just  this  form  had  been  up  a  number 
of  times  before,  and  had  been  handled  in  just  this  manner, 
or  passed  over  entirely  with  a  healthy  Irish  grin.  To 
night,  however,  it  was  destined  for  a  little  more  extended 
thought. 

"You  know  it's  bad,  papa,"  corrected  Aileen,  firmly. 
"Now  what's  the  use  getting  mad  about  it?  It's  old  and 
cheap  and  dingy.  The  furniture  is  all  worn  out.  That 
old  piano  in  there  ought  to  be  given  away.  I  won't  play 
on  it  any  more.  The  Cowperwoods — 

"Old,  is  it!"  exclaimed  Butler,  his  accent  growing  with 
a  somewnat  self -induced  rage.  He  almost  pronounced 
it  "owled."  "Dingy,  hi!  Where  do  you  get  that?  At 
your  convent,  I  suppose.  And  where  is  it  worn?  Show 
me  where  it's  worn." 

He  was  coming  to  her  reference  to  Cowperwood,  but 
he  hadn't  reached  that  when  Mrs.  Butler  interfered. 
She  was  a  stout,  broad-faced,  smiling-mouthed  woman 
most  of  the  time,  with  blurry,  gray  Irish  eyes,  and  a  touch 
of  red  in  her  hair,  now  modified  by  grayness.  Her  left 

203 


THE    FINANCIER 

cheek,  below  the  mouth,  was  considerably  accented  by  a 
large  wen. 

"Children!  children!"  (Mr.  Butler,  for  all  his  com 
mercial  and  political  responsibility,  was  as  much  a  child 
to  her  as  any.)  "Youse  mustn't  quarrel  now.  Come 
now.  Give  your  father  the  tomatoes." 

There  was  an  Irish  maid  serving  at  table;  but  plates 
were  passed  from  one  to  the  other  just  the  same.  A 
heavily  ornamented  chandelier,  holding  sixteen  imitation 
candles  in  white  porcelain,  hung  low  over  the  table  and 
was  brightly  lighted,  another  offense  to  Aileen. 

"  Mama,  how  often  have  I  told  you  not  to  say  '  youse'  ? " 
pleaded  Norah,  very  much  disheartened  by  her  mother's 
grammatical  errors.  "You  know  you  said  you  wouldn't." 

"And  who's  to  tell  your  mother  what  she  should  say?" 
called  Butler,  more  incensed  than  ever  at  this  sudden 
and  unwarranted  rebellion  and  assault.  "Your  mother 
talked  before  ever  you  was  born,  I'd  have  you  know.  If 
it  weren't  for  her  workin'  and  slavin'  you  wouldn't  have 
any  fine  manners  to  be  paradin'  before  her.  I'd  have 
you  know  that.  She's  a  better  woman  nor  any  you'll 
be  runnin'  with  this  day,  you  little  baggage,  you!" 

"  Mama,  do  you  hear  what  he's  calling  me?"  complained 
Norah,  hugging  close  to  her  mother's  arm  and  pretending 
fear  and  dissatisfaction. 

"Eddie!  Eddie!"  cautioned  Mrs.  Butler,  pleading 
with  her  husband.  "You  know  he  doesn't  mean  that, 
Norah.  Don't  you  know  he  doesn't?" 

She  was  stroking  her  baby's  head.  The  reference  to 
her  grammar  had  not  touched  her  at  all. 

Butler  was  sorry  that  he  had  called  his  youngest  a 
baggage;  but  these  children — God  bless  his  soul — were 
a  great  annoyance.  Why,  in  the  name  of  all  the  saints, 
wasn't  this  house  good  enough  for  them?" 

"Why  don't  you  people  quit  fussing  at  the  table?"  ob 
served  Callum,  a  likely  youth  in  bright  tweed,  his  black 
hair  laid  smoothly  over  his  forehead  in  a  long,  distinguished 

204 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

layer  reaching  close  to  his  right  ear,  and  his  upper  lip 
carrying  a  short,  crisp  mustache.  His  nose  was  short 
and  retrousse,  and  his  ears  were  rather  prominent; 
but  he  was  bright  and  attractive.  He  and  Owen  both 
realized  that  the  house  was  old  and  poorly  arranged; 
but  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Butler  liked  it,  and  business  sense  and 
family  peace  dictated  silence  on  this  score.  Butler,  pkre, 
expected  conservatism  and  social  support  from  his  two 
sons. 

"Well,  I  think  it's  mean  to  have  to  live  in  this  old 
place  when  every  one  else — people  not  one-fourth  as  good 
as  we  are — are  living  in  better  ones.  The  Cowperwoods 
— why,  even  the  Cowperwoods — " 

"Yes,  the  Cowperwoods!  What  about  the  Cowper 
woods?"  demanded  Butler,  turning  squarely  to  Aileen — 
she  was  sitting  beside  him — his  big,  red  face  glowing. 

"Why,  even  they  have  a  better  house  than  we  have, 
and  he's  merely  an  agent  of  yours." 

"The  Cowperwoods!  The  Cowperwoods!  I'll  not 
have  any  talk  about  the  Cowperwoods.  I'm  not  takin' 
my  rules  from  the  Cowperwoods.  Suppose  they  have  a 
fine  house,  what  of  it?  My  house  is  my  house.  I  want 
to  live  here.  I've  lived  here  too  long  to  be  pickin'  up 
and  movin'  away.  If  you  don't  like  it  you  know  what 
else  you  can  do.  Move  if  you  want  to.  I'll  not  move." 

It  was  Butler's  habit  when  he  became  involved  in  these 
family  quarrels,  which  were  as  shallow  as  rain  water,  to 
wave  his  hands  rather  antagonistically  under  his  wife's 
or  his  children's  noses.  He  was  doing  it  now  to  Aileen, 
quite  forgetful  of  how  bad-mannered  and  shocking  it 
seemed  to  her. 

"Oh,  well,  I  will  get  out  one  of  these  days,"  she  replied. 
"Thank  heaven  I  won't  have  to  live  here  always." 

There  flashed  across  her  mind  the  beautiful  reception- 
room,  library,  parlor,  and  boudoirs  of  the  Cowperwoods, 
which  were  now  being  arranged  preparatory  to  moving 
and  about  which  Anna  Cowperwood  talked  to  her  so  much 

205 


THE    FINANCIER 

— their  dainty,  lovely  triangular  grand  piano  in  gold  and 
painted  pink-and-blue.  Why  couldn't  they  have  things 
like  that?  Her  father  was  unquestionably  a  dozen  times 
as  wealthy.  But  no,  her  father,  whom  she  loved  dearly, 
was  of  the  old  school.  He  was  just  what  people  charged 
him  with  being,  a  rough  Irish  contractor.  He  might  be 
rich.  She  flared  up  a  little  at  the  injustice  of  things — 
why  couldn't  he  have  been  rich  and  refined,  too?  Then 
they  could  have — but,  oh,  what  was  the  use  complaining  ? 
They  would  never  get  anywhere  with  her  father  and 
mother  in  charge.  She  would  just  have  to  wait.  Mar 
riage  was  the  answer — the  right  marriage.  But  who  was 
she  to  marry? 

"You  surely  are  not  going  to  go  on  fighting  about  that 
now,"  pleaded  Mrs.  Butler,  as  strong  and  patient  as  fate 
itself.  She  knew  where  Aileen's  trouble  lay. 

"But,  anyhow,  we  might  have  the  house  done  over," 
whispered  Nor  ah  to  her  mother. 

"Hush,  now.  In  good  time.  Wait.  We'll  fix  it  all 
up  some  day,  sure.  You  run  to  your  lessons  now.  You've 
had  enough." 

Norah  arose  and  left. 

Aileen  subsided.  What  was  the  use?  Her  father  was 
simply  stubborn  and  impossible.  And  yet  he  was  nice, 
too. 

"Come  now,"  he  said,  after  they  had  left  the  table, 
"play  me  some  thin'  on  the  piano,  somethin'  nice."  He 
wanted  showy,  clattery  things  which  exhibited  his  daugh 
ter's  skill  and  muscular  ability  and  left  him  wondering 
how  she  did  it.  That  was  what  education  was  for — to 
enable  her  to  play  these  very  difficult  things  quickly  and 
forcefully.  The  significance  of  it?  Well,  there  wasn't 
any  to  him,  and  Aileen  knew  that  also.  Her  taste  was 
so  much  better.  "And  you  can  have  a  new  piano  any 
time  you  like.  Go  and  see  about  it.  This  looks  pretty 
good  to  me;  but  if  you  don't  want  it,  all  right." 

Aileen  squeezed  his  arm.  What  was  the  use  of  arguing 

206 


THE    FINANCIER 

with  her  father?  What  good  would  a  lone  new  piano  do, 
when  the  whole  house  and  the  whole  family  atmosphere 
ought  to  be  disposed  of?  But  she  played  Schumann, 
Schubert,  Offenbach,  Chopin,  and  the  old  gentleman 
strolled  to  and  fro  and  stared,  smiling.  There  was  real 
feeling  and  a  thoughtful  interpretation  given  to  some 
of  these  things,  for  Aileen  was  not  without  sentiment, 
though  she  was  so  strong,  vigorous,  and  withal  so  defiant; 
but  it  was  all  lost  on  him.  He  looked  on  her,  his  bright, 
healthy,  enticingly  beautiful  daughter,  and  wondered  what 
was  going  to  become  of  her.  Some  rich  man  was  going 
to  marry  her — some  fine,  rich  young  man  with  good 
business  instincts — and  he,  her  father,  would  leave  her 
a  lot  of  money. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THERE  was  a  reception  and  a  dance  to  be  given 
to  celebrate  the  opening  of  the  two  Cowperwood 
homes  —  the  reception  to  be  held  in  Frank  Cowper- 
wood's  residence,  and  the  dance  later  in  the  evening 
at  Henry's,  his  father's.  The  Henry  Cowperwood 
domicile,  although  it  has  not  been  described,  was  much 
more  pretentious,  the  reception-room,  parlor,  music- 
room,  and  conservatory  being  in  this  case  all  on  the 
ground  floor  and  much  larger.  Ellsworth  had  arranged 
it  so  that  those  rooms,  on  occasion,  could  be  thrown  into 
one,  leaving  excellent  space  for  promenade,  auditorium, 
dancing — anything,  in  fact,  that  a  large  company  might 
require.  It  had  been  the  intention  all  along  of  the  two 
men  to  use  these  houses  jointly.  There  was,  to  begin  with, 
a  combination  use  of  the  various  servants,  the  butler, 
gardener,  laundress,  and  maids.  Frank  Cowperwood  em 
ployed  a  governess  for  his  children.  The  butler  was 
really  not  a  butler  in  the  best  sense.  He  was  Henry 
Cowperwood's  private  servitor.  But  he  could  carve  and 
preside,  and  he  could  be  used  in  either  house  as  occasion 
warranted.  There  was  also  a  hostler  and  a  coachman  for 
the  joint  stable.  When  two  carriages  were  required  at 
once,  both  drove.  It  made  a  very  agreeable  and  satis 
factory  working  arrangement. 

The  preparation  of  this  reception  had  been  quite  a 
matter  of  importance  with  the  Cowperwoods,  father  and 
son,  for  it  was  necessary  for  financial  reasons  to  make  it 
as  extensive  as  possible,  and  for  social  reasons  as  exclusive. 
The  matter  was  rather  neatly  solved  in  this  way,  that 
the  afternoon  reception  at  Frank's  house,  with  its  natural 

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THE    FINANCIER 

overflow  into  Henry  W.'s,  was  to  be  for  all — the  Tighes, 
Steners,  Butlers,  Mollenhauers,  as  well  as  the  more  select 
groups  to  which,  for  instance,  belonged  Arthur  Rivers, 
Mrs.  Seneca  Davis,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Trenor  Drake,  and  some 
of  the  younger  Drexels  and  Clarks,  whom  Frank  had  met. 
It  was  not  likely  that  the  latter  would  condescend,  but 
cards  had  to  be  sent.  Later  in  the  evening  the  more 
purely  social  list  was  to  be  entertained,  which  included 
the  friends  of  Anna,  Mrs.  Cowperwood,  Edward,  and 
Joseph,  and  any  list  which  Frank  might  personally  have 
in  mind.  This  was  to  be  the  list.  The  best  that  could 
be  persuaded,  commanded,  or  influenced  of  the  young 
and  socially  elect  were  to  be  invited  here. 

It  was  not  possible  not  to  invite  the  Butlers,  parents  and 
children,  particularly  the  children,  though  the  presence 
of  the  parents,  if  they  should  by  any  chance  take  it  into 
their  heads  to  stay,  would  be  most  unsatisfactory.  Even 
Aileen  and  Norah  were  a  little  unsatisfactory  to  Anna 
Cowperwood  and  Mrs.  Frank;  and  these  two,  when  they 
were  together  supervising  the  list  of  invitations,  often 
talked  about  it. 

"She's  so  hoidenish,"  observed  Anna,  to  her  sister-in- 
law,  when  they  came  to  the  name  of  Aileen.  "She  thinks 
she  knows  so  much,  and  she  isn't  a  bit  refined.  Her 
father!  Well,  if  I  had  her  father  I  wouldn't  talk  so 
smart." 

Mrs.  Cowperwood,  who  was  before  her  secretaire  in  her 
new  boudoir,  lifted  her  eyebrows. 

"You  know,  Anna,  I  sometimes  wish  that  Frank's 
business  did  not  compel  me  to  have  to  do  with  them. 
Mrs.  Butler  is  such  a  bore.  She  means  well  enough,  but 
she  doesn't  know  anything.  And  Aileen  is  too  rough. 
She's  too  forward,  I  think.  She  comes  over  here  and 
plays  upon  the  piano,  particularly  when  Frank's  here.  I 
wouldn't  mind  so  much  for  myself,  but  I  know  it  must 
annoy  him.  All  her  pieces  are  so  noisy,  She  never  plays 
anything  really  delicate  and  refined." 

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THE    FINANCIER 

'•I  don't  like  the  way  she  dresses,"  observed  Anna, 
sympathetically.  "  She  gets  herself  up  too  conspicuously. 
Now,  the  other  day  I  saw  her  out  driving,  and  oh,  dear! 
you  should  have  seen  her !  She  had  on  a  crimson  Zouave 
jacket  heavily  braided  with  black  about  the  edges,  and  a 
turban  with  a  huge  crimson  feather,  and  crimson  ribbons 
reaching  nearly  to  her  waist.  Imagine  that  kind  of  a  hat 
to  drive  in.  And  her  hands!  You  should  have  seen  the 
way  she  held  her  hands — oh — just — so — self-consciously. 
They  were  curved  just  so" — and  she  showed  how.  "She 
had  on  yellow  gauntlets,  and  she  held  the  reins  in  one 
hand  and  the  whip  in  the  other.  She  fairly  drives  like 
mad  when  she  drives,  anyhow,  and  William,  the  footman, 
was  up  behind  her.  You  should  just  have  seen  her  look. 
Oh,  dear!  oh,  dear!  she  does  think  she  is  so  much!"  And 
Anna  giggled  half  in  reproach,  half  in  amusement. 

"I  suppose  we'll  have  to  invite  her;  I  don't  see  how  we 
can  get  out  of  it.  I  know  just  how  she'll  do,  though. 
She'll  walk  about  and  pose  and  hold  her  nose  up." 

"Really,  I  don't  see  how  she  can,"  commented  Anna. 
"Now,  I  like  Norah.  She's  much  nicer.  She  doesn't 
think  she's  so  much." 

"I  like  Norah,  too,"  added  Mrs.  Cowperwood,  "She's 
really  very  sweet,  and  to  me  she's  prettier  in  a  quiet  way." 

"Oh,  much  so.     Oh,  indeed,  I  think  so,  too." 

It  was  curious,  though,  that  it  was  Aileen  who  com 
manded  nearly  all  their  attention,  held  their  thought,  and 
fixed  their  minds  on  her  so-called  idiosyncrasies.  It  is 
true  that  all  they  said  was  in  its  peculiar  way  true;  but 
in  addition  the  girl  was  really  beautiful  and  much  above 
the  average  in  intelligence  and  force.  She  was  running 
high  with  a  great  ambition,  and  it  was  all  the  more  con 
spicuous,  and  in  a  way  irritating  to  some,  because  it  re 
flected  her  own  consciousness  of  her  social  defects,  against 
which  she  was  inwardly  fighting.  She  resented  the  fact 
that  people  could  justly  consider  her  parents  ineligible, 
and  her  also  for  that  reason.  To  bedlam  with  them! 

210 


THE    FINANCIER 

She  was  intrinsically  as  worth  while  as  any  one.  Cowper- 
wood,  so  able,  and  rapidly  becoming  so  distinguished, 
seemed  to  realize  it.  He  was  nice  to  her,  and  liked  to 
talk  to  her.  Whenever  he  was  at  her  house  now,  or  she 
was  at  his  and  he  was  present,  he  managed  somehow  to 
say  a  word.  He  would  come  over  quite  near  and  look  at 
her  in  a  warm,  friendly  way. 

"Well,  Aileen," — she  could  see  his  genial,  significant 
eyes — "how  is  it  with  you?  How  are  your  father  and 
mother?  Been  out  driving?  That's  fine.  I  saw  you 
to-day.  You  looked  beautiful." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Cowperwood!" 

"You  did.  You  looked  stunning.  A  black  riding- 
habit  becomes  you.  I  can  tell  your  gold  hair  a  long  way 
off." 

"Oh,  now,  you  mustn't  say  that  to  me.  You'll  make 
me  vain!  My  mother  and  father  tell  me  I'm  too  vain 
as  it  is." 

"Never  mind  your  mother  and  father.  I  say  you 
looked  stunning,  and  you  did.  You  always  do." 

"Oh!" 

She  almost  gave  a  little  gasp  of  delight.  The  color 
mounted  to  her  cheeks  and  up  to  her  temples.  Mr. 
Cowperwood  was  the  kind  of  man  to  know.  He  was 
so  intensely  forceful.  His  own  quiet  intensity  matched 
her  restless  force.  He  was  the  one  man  whose  force  did 
seem  to  be  equal  to  hers.  He  knew  what  good  looks  were. 
He  knew  what  style  was.  No  one  else  had  ever  told 
her  this  in  the  same  forceful,  dramatic  way.  It  made 
her  like  him  better;  and  yet,  perhaps — she  wasn't  sure — 
perhaps  he  ought  not  to  talk  to  her  in  that  way.  But 
oh!  he  was  so  strong  and  so  successful  to  be  so  young. 
Her  own  forceful  father  had  said — she  had  heard  him  say 
it  more  than  once — that  he  was  one  of  the  most  able 
young  men  he  had  ever  met.  A  coming  man ! 

On  the  night  of  the  reception,  then,  among  many  others, 
and  principally  because  she  could  not  be  reasonably  elimi- 

211 


THE    FINANCIER 

nated,  Aileen  Butler  and  her  sister  were  coming,  and  there 
had  been  much  intermediate  discussion  of  this  fact.  The 
Butlers,  mere  and  pere,  had  to  be  eliminated,  and  Cowper- 
wood  himself  was  quite  well  aware  that  it  ought  to  be 
attended  to.  After  his  wife  had  asked  him  what  he 
intended  to  do  about  it,  or  whether  he  thought  they'd 
really  come,  he  approached  Aileen  at  the  piano  one  even 
ing  in  his  own  home.  Norah  and  Anna  were  discussing 
things  in  general  in  the  living-room  before  a  grate-fire. 
Mrs.  Cowperwood  was  teaching  Frank  Cowperwood, 
Jr.,  to  spell  beside  the  table  lamp.  Aileen  was  meditat 
ively  strumming  in  an  effort  to  match  a  mood. 

He  leaned  over  her,  watching  her  hands. 

"  Do  your  father  and  mother  understand  that  the  dance 
afterward  is  principally  for  young  people?" 

It  was  rather  a  hard  thing  to  ask;  but  he  dressed  it 
out  in  a  nonchalant  air,  and  gave  it  with  a  sweetness  that 
was  full  of  real  sympathy,  consideration,  and  something 
more. 

Aileen  nodded  her  head.  She  knew  what  the  point  was. 
They  did  not  want  her  father  and  mother;  but  neither 
did  she,  truly.  She  had  been  planning  to  obviate  this 
all  along.  Still,  if  any  one  else  save  he  had  said  it,  if  he 
had  asked  it  in  any  other  way  than  this,  with  much  of 
appeal  and  much  of  sympathy  and  understanding  thrown 
in,  it  would  have  been  very  different.  But,  as  it  was, 
she  understood,  and  between  them  they  understood. 
He  wanted  to  help  her,  and  she  him. 

"You  have  pretty  hands,"  he  said,  softly. 

She  pursed  her  lips  reproachfully. 

"You  mustn't  tell  me  that." 

He  went  away,  not  at  all  hurt,  but  because  he  was 
cautious.  He  was  playing  a  subtle  r61e,  and  it  was  dan 
gerous.  Still,  this  girl  held  him  in  spite  of  any  of  these 
difficulties  which  might  intervene.  Caution — plenty  of 
it — and  he  might  be  as  nice  to  her  as  he  pleased. 

This  dance  was  coming — the  very  night,  at  last — and 

212 


THE    FINANCIER 

with  it  a  crowd  of  the  smartest  young  people  that  the 
Cowperwoods  had  ever  welcomed  beneath  their  roof. 
Their  lives  were  broadening.  Cowperwood  could  feel 
that.  In  answer  to  the  one  hundred  and  fifty  carefully 
chosen  invitations  one  hundred  and  twenty-five,  or 
thereabouts,  had  answered.  Some  of  the  really  smart 
people,  girls  and  boys,  men  and  women,  would  be  present. 
Arthur  Rivers  was  coming  with  Mrs.  Simmons,  a  noted 
beauty.  The  daughter  of  Henry  Waterman  and  the  two 
sons  of  George  were  to  be  on  hand,  notably  good-looking 
children  all,  and  of  some  social  prestige.  Mrs.  Seneca 
Davis,  Mrs.  Schuyler  Evans,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Simeon  Jones, 
Mary  and  Ethel  Clark,  Roberta  and  Alice  Cadwalader, 
Henry  and  Dorothea  Willing,  of  a  minor  branch  of  that 
family,  and  so  on.  There  was  some  curiosity  as  to  the 
quality  and  charm  of  the  two  houses  the  Cowperwoods  had 
erected,  and  some  interest  as  to  the  basis  of  their  social 
pretensions.  Who  were  the  Cowperwoods,  anyhow?  It 
was  recalled  that  several  branches  of  this  family  were  in 
excellent  standing,  and  had  been  since  the  Revolution, 
though  they  had  no  money.  Would  they  do?  Mrs. 
Seneca  Davis  was  charming;  Henry  W.  Cowperwood  was 
sufficiently  conservative — being  a  bank  president — and 
useful,  too.  This  young  Frank — well,  people  said  he 
was  a  genius.  He  was  likely  to  become  very,  very  rich. 
A  little  early  friendship  would  not  do  any  harm.  Young 
Ellsworth,  who  went  about  a  great  deal  socially  in  the 
best  circles,  sang  his  praises  to  the  skies.  A  great  young 
man,  if  ever  there  was  one — tactful,  discriminating,  grave, 
subtle,  able.  The  world  would  surely  hear  of  him.  And 
he  was  rich  already — much  richer  than  his  father. 

So  the  rumor  of  this  thing  went,  and  it  brought  a  throng. 

But  to  deal  with  the  reception  itself — the  actual  event. 
During  the  afternoon  there  was  a  stream  of  people — the 
carriages  of  the  Butlers,  the  Mollenhauers,  the  Simpsons, 
the  Davises,  the  Watermans — all  after  four  o'clock,  and 
Henry  W.  and  Frank  were  in  the  reception-room  of 

213 


THE    FINANCIER 

Frank's  house,  which  gave  off  into  the  dining-room.  There 
were  wine,  cigars,  liqueurs  for  the  gentlemen;  flowers, 
sweets,  cake  and  tea,  sandwiches,  and  salad  for  the  ladies, 
or  for  both  ladies  and  gentlemen,  as  the  case  might  be. 
There  was  music.  There  were  many,  very  many  in 
troductions.  There  were  tactful  descriptions  of  little 
effects  Mr.  Ellsworth  had  achieved  under  rather  trying 
circumstances;  walks  under  the  pergola;  viewings  of 
Mr.  Cowperwood's  home;  introductions  of  Mrs.  Cowper- 
wood,  Sr.,  Mrs.  Cowperwood,  Jr.,  Anna,  and  the  boys. 
Many  of  the  guests  were  old  friends.  They  gathered  in 
the  libraries  and  dining-rooms  and  talked.  There  was 
much  jesting,  some  slapping  of  shoulders,  some  good 
story-telling,  and  so  the  afternoon  waned  into  evening, 
and  they  went  away.  The  Cowperwoods  dined  hastily 
alone  between  seven  and  eight. 

At  nine  the  evening  guests  began  to  arrive,  and  now 
the  throng  was  of  a  different  complexion.  There  were 
young  people — many  of  them  handsome,  well-bred,  spick- 
and-span  youths  in  evening  dress,  their  necks  and  cheeks 
powdered  above  their  white  collars  and  ties,  their  feet 
incased  in  soft,  black  leather,  their  hair  parted  to  a 
nicety.  They  threw  their  coats  and  hats  to  servitors  and 
strolled  idly  about,  seeming  scarcely  to  note  the  newness 
and  elegance  of  all  things,  though  they  did.  Outside  in 
the  cold — for  it  was  late  fall — the  carriage  doors  were 
slamming,  and  new  guests  were  arriving  constantly. 
Mrs.  Lillian  Cowperwood  stood  with  her  husband  and 
Anna  in  the  main  entrance  to  the  reception-room,  while 
Joseph  and  Edward  Cowperwood  and  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Henry  W.  Cowperwood  lingered  in  the  background. 
Mrs.  Lillian  Cowperwood  looked  charming  in  a  train 
gown  of  old  rose,  with  a  low,  square  neck  and  bell  sleeves, 
showing  a  delicate  chemisette  of  fine  lace.  Her  beauty 
of  figure  still  was  a  notable  thing,  though  her  face  was 
not  as  smoothly  sweet  as  it  had  been  years  before  when 
Cowperwood  had  first  met  her.  Anna  Cowperwood  was 

214 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

not  so  pretty,  though  she  could  not  be  said  to  be  homely. 
She  was  small  and  dark,  with  a  turned-up  nose,  snapping 
black  eyes,  a  pert,  inquisitive,  intelligent,  and,  alas, 
somewhat  critical  air.  She  had  considerable  tact  in  the 
matter  of  dressing,  and  knew  the  few  things  that  became 
her  very  well.  Black,  in  spite  of  her  darkness,  with  shin 
ing  beads  or  sequins  on  it,  helped  her  complexion  greatly, 
as  did  a  red  rose  in  her  hair.  She  had  smooth,  white, 
well-rounded  arms  and  shoulders,  so  these  were  used 
to  their  full  advantage.  Bright  eyes,  a  pert  manner, 
clever  remarks — these  assisted  to  create  an  illusion  of 
charm,  though,  as  she  often  said,  it  was  all  of  little  use. 
"The  men  want  the  dolly  things." 

Aileen  Butler  was  anything  but  the  "dolly"  type. 
She  had  been  here  once  before  during  the  afternoon  with 
her  father  and  mother,  Callum  and  Norah — for  Owen 
could  not  come — and  she  had  created  an  impression  in 
a  street  costume  of  dark-blue  silk  with  velvet  pelisse  to 
match,  and  trimmed  only  with  elaborate  pleatings  and 
shillings  of  the  same  materials.  A  toque  of  blue  velvet, 
with  high  crown  and  one  large  dark-red  imitation  orchid, 
had  given  her  a  jaunty,  dashing  air.  Beneath  the  toque 
her  red-gold  hair  was  arranged  in  an  enormous  chignon, 
with  one  long  curl  escaping  over  her  collar.  She  was 
not  exactly  as  daring  as  she  seemed;  but  she  loved  to 
give  the  impression  of  it. 

"The  bold  thing,"  Anna  had  commented.  "Just  as 
I  thought." 

"You  look  stunning,"  Cowperwood  said,  as  she  passed. 

"I'll  look  different  to-night,"  was  her  only  answer. 

"Tst!  Tst!  Tst!"  Mrs.  Lillian  Cowperwood  had  com 
mented  to  herself.  "Well,  they  had  better  look  after  her. ' ' 

She  had  swung  with  a  slight,  swaggering  stride  into 
the  dining-room  and  disappeared.  Norah  and  her  mother 
stayed  to  chatter. 

"Well,  it's  lovely  now,  isn't  it?"  breathed  Mrs.  Butler. 
"It's  charming,  altogether.  Sure  you'll  be  happy  here. 

215 


THE    FINANCIER 

Sure  you  will.  When  Eddie  fixed  the  house  we're  in 
now,  says  I,  'Eddie,  it's  almost  too  fine  for  us  altogether 
— surely  it  is,'  and  says  'e,  'Norah,  nothin'  this  side  o' 
heavin  or  beyond  is  too  good  for  ye' — and  he  kissed  me. 
Now  what  d'ye  think  of  that  fer  a  big,  hulkin'  gossoon?" 

"  It's  perfectly  lovely,  I  think,  Mrs.  Butler,"  commented 
Mrs.  Cowperwood,  a  little  bit  nervous  because  of  others. 

"Mama  does  love  to  talk  so.  Come  on,  mama.  Let's 
look  at  the  dining-room."  It  was  Norah  talking. 

"Well,  may  ye  always  be  happy  in  it.  I  wish  ye  that. 
I've  always  been  happy  in  mine.  May  ye  always  be 
happy."  And  Mrs.  Butler  waddled  good-naturedly 
along. 

But  in  this  later  inpouring  throng  of  young  men  and 
women — girls  in  mauve  and  cream-white  and  salmon- 
pink  and  silver-gray,  laying  aside  lace  shawls  and  loose 
dolmans,  a  form  of  opera  cape,  the  men  in  smooth  black 
helping  them — came  Aileen  and  Norah,  without  their 
father  and  mother.  Mrs.  Cowperwood  and  Anna  and 
the  Henry  Cowperwoods  and  Frank  had  been  inestimably 
pleased  by  the  showing  they  were  making.  Frank,  par 
ticularly,  was  charmed;  for  in  this  fair-spoken,  tastefully 
garbed  company,  which  was  passing  in  review  before  him, 
he  saw  a  reflection,  the  first  dawning  rays  of  the  sun  of 
his  prosperity  striking  against  life.  It  was  true  that  he 
had  been  prospering  financially  before  this;  but  it  was 
only  as  a  tree  prospers  whose  roots  are  working  in  the 
dark,  gathering  force  for  the  leaves  and  blossoms  over 
head.  That  fine  tint  of  the  May-time  in  leaf  and  bud— 
this  was  it.  In  a  way  this  was  what  force  and  con 
structive  ability  were  for — to  blossom  forth  in  material 
splendor.  To  be  sure,  this  was  not  much  material  splen 
dor,  perhaps  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars  all 
told  for  him  and  his  father;  but  it  was  something,  a  be 
ginning.  It  might,  probably  would,  lead  to  other  things. 
These  people  could  be  useful  to  him,  some  of  them.  They 
would  spread  his  repute — Ellsworth  here,  whom  he  was 

216 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

clasping  hands  with,  and  Traynor  Fox,  now  bowing  to 
him.  Suddenly,  as  he  thought,  out  of  the  cold,  where 
gusty  winds  were  and  the  flicker  of  gas-lamps,  came  Aileen 
and  Norah,  the  former  throwing  off  a  thin  net  veil  of 
black  lace  and  a  dolman  of  black  silk,  which  her  brother 
Owen  was  taking.  Callum  was  with  Norah,  a  straight, 
erect,  smiling  young  Irishman  who  looked  as  though  he 
might  carve  a  notable  career  for  himself.  Norah  was  in 
a  short,  girlish  dress  that  came  to  a  little  below  her  shoe- 
tops,  a  pale-figured  lavender-and-white  silk,  with  a  fluffy 
hoop-skirt  of  dainty  lace-edged  ruffles,  against  which  tiny 
bows  of  lavender  stood  out  in  odd  places.  There  was  a 
great  sash  of  lavender  about  her  waist,  and  in  her  hair 
a  rosette  of  the  same  material.  She  had  an  incurving 
nose,  small  and  sweet,  and  looked  exceedingly  girlish  and 
winsome — quite  eager  and  bright-eyed.  Cowperwood 
thought  of  her  heavy,  stolid  father  and  mother.  How 
much  of  their  primary  unworkable  clay  was  in  her? 

But  behind  her  was  her  sister  in  ravishing  black  satin, 
scaled  as  a  fish  with  glistening  crimsoned-silver  sequins, 
her  round,  smooth  arms  bare  to  the  shoulders,  her  cor 
sage  cut  as  low  in  the  front  and  back  as  her  daring,  in 
relation  to  her  sense  of  the  proprieties,  permitted.  She 
was  naturally  of  exquisite  figure — Diana-formed,  erect, 
full-breasted,  with  somewhat  more  than  gently  swelling 
hips,  which,  nevertheless,  sunk  away  in  lovely,  harmoni 
ous  lines ;  and  this  low-cut  corsage,  receding  back  and  front 
into  a  deep  V,  above  a  short,  gracefully  draped  overskirt 
of  black  tulle  and  silver  tissue,  set  her  off  to  perfection. 
It  was  only  the  intense  vigor  of  her  personality  which 
seemed  to  emphasize,  and,  in  a  way,  over-emphasize  the 
significance  of  all  her  lines  and  features.  Her  full,  smooth, 
roundly  modeled  neck  was  enhanced  in  its  cream-pink 
whiteness  by  an  inch- wide  necklet  of  black  jet  cut  in  many 
faceted  black  squares.  Her  complexion,  naturally  high 
in  tone  because  of  the  pink  of  health,  was  enhanced  by 
the  tiniest  speck  of  black  court-plaster  laid  upon  her  cheek- 

8  2I7 


THE    FINANCIER 

bone;  and  her  hair,  heightened  in  its  reddish-gold  by  her 
dress,  was  fluffed  loosely  and  adroitly  about  the  eyes. 
The  main  mass  of  this  treasure  was  done  in  two  loose, 
massy  braids  caught  up  in  a  black  spangled  net  at  the 
back  of  her  neck;  and  her  eyebrows  had  been  emphasized 
by  a  pencil  into  something  almost  as  significant  as  her 
hair.  She  was,  for  the  occasion,  a  little  too  emphatic, 
perhaps,  and  yet  more  because  of  her  burning  vitality 
than  of  her  costume.  Art  for  her  should  have  meant 
subduing  her  physical  and  spiritual  significance.  Life 
for  her  meant  emphasizing  them. 

"Lillian!"  Anna  nudged  her  sister-in-law.  She  was 
grieved  to  think  that  Aileen  was  wearing  black  and  looked 
so  much  better. 

"I  see,"  Lillian  replied,  in  a  subdued  tone. 

"So  you're  back  again."  She  was  addressing  Aileen. 
"It's  chilly  out,  isn't  it?" 

"I  don't  mind.     Don't  the  rooms  look  lovely,  now?" 

She  was  gazing  at  the  softly  lighted  chambers  and  the 
throng  before  her. 

Norah  began  to  babble  to  Anna.  "You  know,  I  just 
thought  I  never  would  get  this  old  thing  on."  She  was 
speaking  of  her  dress.  "Aileen  wouldn't  help  me — the 
mean  thing!" 

Aileen  had  swept  on  to  Cowperwood  and  his  mother, 
who  was  near  him.  She  had  removed  the  black  satin 
ribbon  which  held  her  train  from  her  arm,  and  kicked  the 
skirts  loose  and  free.  Her  eyes  gleamed  almost  pleading 
ly  for  all  her  hauteur,  like  a  spirited  collie's,  and  her  even 
teeth  showed  beautifully. 

Cowperwood  understood  her  precisely,  as  he  did  any 
fine,  spirited  animal.  His  wife,  his  mother,  many  peo 
ple  would  not  know  how  to  take  her  at  all. 

"I  can't  tell  you  how  nice  you  look,"  he  whispered  to 
her,  familiarly,  as  though  there  were  an  old  understanding 
between  them.  "You're  like  fire  and  a  song." 

He  did  not  know  why  he  said  this.  He  was  not  es- 

218 


THE    FINANCIER 

pecially  poetic,  he  imagined.  He  had  not  formulated 
the  phrase  beforehand.  Since  his  first  glimpse  of  her  in 
the  hall  his  feelings  and  ideas  had  been  leaping  and  plung 
ing  like  spirited  horses.  And  in  the  grip  of  his  super-self 
were  the  reins  of  control  checking  them.  This  girl  made 
him  set  his  teeth  and  narrow  his  eyes.  He  involuntarily 
squared  himself,  looking  more  defiant,  forceful,  efficient  as 
she  drew  near.  His  equivocal  smile,  the  best  phase  of  it, 
so  useful  in  his  commercial  and  social  relations  with  men, 
was  on  his  lips.  He  drew  a  deep,  essential  breath. 

"Oh,  how  nice!"  she  answered,  tossing  her  head;  but 
she,  too,  was  excited.  Because  he  was  so,  she  was,  and  she 
knew  it. 

"We  thought  we'd  walk  over  once,"  she  explained  to 
his  mother,  who  was  close  by.  "It's  so  near." 

"I'm  afraid  you  have  caught  cold,  my  dear,"  replied 
Mrs.  Henry  W.  "It's  quite  chilly  out  to-night." 

She  was  wondering  what  the  other  guests  would  think 
of  Aileen,  she  was  so — well,  so  over-impressive.  Cowper- 
wood  was  thinking  so,  also;  but  a  radiant,  fulsome  blonde, 
Mrs.  Martyn  Walker,  in  snowy  silk  and  bursting  from 
her  corsets,  confronted  him,  a  red  rose  in  her  flaxen  hair, 
and  he  said  to  himself  she  would  do  as  a  foil.  Would 
there  were  many  more. 

Aileen  and  Norah  were  surrounded  shortly  by  young 
men  to  be  introduced,  and  to  write  their  names  on  their 
dance-cards,  and  for  the  time  being  she  was  lost  to  view. 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE  subtle,  metaphysical  seeds  of  change  are  rooted 
deeply.  From  the  first  mention  of  the  dance  by 
Mrs.  Cowperwood  and  Anna,  with  the  light  description 
of  the  surroundings  which  were  to  attend  it,  Aileen  had 
been  conscious  of  an  effective  presentation  of  herself  which 
would  transpire  as  a  result — a  better  presentation  to  a 
more  distinguished  group  of  people  than  she  as  yet,  for 
all  her  father's  money,  had  been  able  to  achieve. 

The  difference  between  the  Cowperwood  standard  of 
life  and  that  of  her  parents  was  obvious.  There  was  less 
money  to  be  charged  to  the  former's  credit  in  the  practi 
cal  American  way;  but  there  was  so  much  more  of  what 
one  might  call  freedom  of  thought,  art  understanding, 
social,  and  even  financial  possibility  and  probability  than 
was  inherent  in  her  own  family  group  and  circle.  Frank 
Cowperwood  was  so  dynamic.  He  was  the  Cowperwood 
family  to  her — father,  mother,  wife,  sister,  brothers, 
children,  and  all.  He  was  never  in  the  foreground — ap 
peared  always  to  shun  the  conspicuous  position,  and  yet 
where  he  was  there  was  the  position.  No  one  else  in  all 
this  group  counted  in  her  incisive  intuitions.  Her  family 
was  Catholic,  and  went  to  mass  on  Sundays  in  the  family 
conveyance  —a  handsome  carryall — but  the  Catholic 
religion  was  a  curious  and  mystical  thing  to  her.  She 
had  learned  a  great  deal  at  home  and  at  her  convent 
school  about  the  theory  and  forms  of  its  ritual;  but  she 
could  not  understand  them. 

"Who  gave  St.  Peter  the  power  to  forgive  sins?"  she 
once  asked  her  father,  when  she  was  a  little  girl  of  ten; 
and  he  had  answered,  promptly,  "Jesus  Christ." 

220 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

"Thou  art  Peter,"  he  quoted,  for  he  was  fairly  well 
up  on  Church  dogma,  and  accepted  it  literally,  "and  upon 
this  rock  I  will  build  my  church,  and  the  gates  of  hell 
shall  not  prevail  against  it.  And  I  will  give  unto  thee 
the  keys  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  and  whatsoever  thou 
shalt  bind  on  earth  shall  be  bound  in  heaven;  and  what 
soever  thou  shalt  loose  on  earth  shall  be  loosed  in 
heaven." 

This  was  a  most  significant  point  with  Catholics,  apt 
to  be  assailed  by  non-Catholics,  and  he  knew  the  exact 
phraseology,  for  he  had  read  it  often  and  heard  it  pro 
nounced  from  the  pulpit. 

"What  is  the  rock?"  she  asked,  not  connecting  the 
apostle  with  the  spiritual  significance  of  his  name. 

"  Peter  is  the  rock.  The  Church  is  built  on  him.  There 
now,  be  off  with  you."  Mr.  Butler  was  busy  thinking 
of  something  else  at  the  time. 

She  had  gone  away;  but  it  was  with  a  vague  idea  of 
a  tomb  or  grave  in  which  Peter  was  lying,  and  over  which 
was  built  a  material  church  not  unlike  their  own,  St. 
Timothy's.  It  had  never  become  any  clearer,  to  speak 
of,  for  as  she  grew  older  she  paid  less  and  less  attention 
to  it. 

St.  Timothy's  and  the  convent  school  at  Germantown, 
where  she  was  educated,  were  peculiar  institutions  to 
her.  She  had  been  taken  to  the  church,  year  in  and  year 
out,  until  she  was  twelve,  and  then  she  had  been  packed 
off  to  the  quiet  retreat  of  the  Sisters  of  the  Holy  Child 
hood,  at  St.  Agatha's,  and  there  she  stayed,  barring 
periodic  visits  to  her  home,  until  she  was  seventeen.  The 
church,  with  its  tall,  dimly  radiant  windows,  its  high, 
white  altar,  its  figures  of  St.  Joseph  on  one  side  and  St. 
Mary  on  the  other,  clothed  in  golden-starred  robes  of 
blue,  and  wearing  halos  or  carrying  scepters,  had  impressed 
her  greatly.  The  church  as  a  whole — any  Catholic  church 
— was  beautiful  to  look  at — soothing.  The  altar,  during 
high  mass,  lit  with  a  half-hundred  candles  or  more,  and 

221 


THE    FINANCIER 

dignified  and  made  impressive  by  the  rich,  lacy  vestments 
of  the  priests  and  the  acolytes,  the  impressive  needle 
work  and  gorgeous  colorings  of  the  amice,  chasuble,  cope, 
stole,  and  maniple,  took  her  fancy  and  held  her  eye.  Let 
us  say  there  was  always  lurking  in  her  a  sense  of  grandeur 
coupled  with  a  love  of  color  and  a  love  of  love.  From  the 
first  she  was  somewhat  sex-conscious.  She  had  no  desire 
for  accuracy — those  so  organized  rarely  do — no  desire  for 
precise  information.  Innate  sensuousness  rarely  has.  It 
basks  in  sunshine,  bathes  in  color,  dwells  in  a  sense  of  the 
impressive  and  the  gorgeous,  and  rests  there.  Activity 
is  not  necessary  except  in  the  case  of  aggressive,  acquisi 
tive  natures  when  it  manifests  itself  as  a  desire  to  seize. 
Sensuousness  can  be  so  manifested  in  the  most  active 
dispositions,  and  apparently  only  in  such. 

There  is  need  of  guarding  such  statements  in  their 
application  to  Aileen.  It  would  hardly  do  to  speak  of 
her  nature  as  being  definitely  sensual  at  this  time.  It 
was  too  rudimentary.  Any  harvest  is  of  long  gathering. 
The  confessional,  dim  on  Friday  and  Saturday  nights,  when 
the  church  was  lighted  but  by  few  lamps,  and  the  priest's 
warnings,  penances,  and  ecclesiastical  forgiveness  whis 
pered  through  narrow  lattices,  moved  her  as  something 
subtly  pleasing.  She  was  not  afraid  of  her  sins.  Hell, 
so  definitely  set  forth,  did  not  frighten  her.  Really,  it 
had  not  laid  hold  on  her  conscience.  The  old  women  and 
men  hobbling  into  church,  bowed  in  prayer,  murmuring 
over  their  beads,  were  objects  of  curious  interest  like  the 
wood-carvings  in  the  peculiar  array  of  wood-reliefs  em 
phasizing  the  stations  of  the  Cross.  She  herself  liked  to 
confess,  particularly  when  she  was  fourteen  and  fifteen, 
and  to  listen  to  the  priest's  voice  as  he  admonished  her 
with,  "Now,  my  dear  child."  A  particularly  old  priest, 
a  French  father,  who  came  to  hear  their  confessions  at 
St.  Agatha's,  interested  her  as  being  kind  and  sweet. 
He  was  old  and  bent,  with  a  narrow,  sallow  face  and 
large,  kindly  eyes.  They  were  sad,  and  she  felt  sorry 

222 


THE    FINANCIER 

for  him — a  little — because  he  was  old  and  the  sunshine 
of  life  could  mean  little  to  him.  His  forgiveness  and  bless 
ing  seemed  sincere — better  than  her  prayers  which  she 
went  through  perfunctorily.  And  then  there  was  a  young 
priest  at  St.  Timothy's,  Father  David,  hale  and  rosy,  with 
a  curl  of  black  hair  over  his  forehead,  and  an  almost 
jaunty  way  of  wearing  his  priestly  hat,  who  came  down 
the  aisle  Sundays  sprinkling  holy  water  with  a  definite, 
distinguished  sweep  of  the  hand,  while  the  acolytes  held 
back  the  sleeves  of  his  amice.  It  would  not  be  fair  to  say 
that  it  was  more  than  the  idle,  wandering  moods  of  a 
girl  with  which  this  particular  priest  had  nothing  to 
do.  He  was  quite  unconscious  of  her.  She  did  not  always 
think  of  him  as  an  impersonal  figure.  There  were  mo 
ments  when  she  looked  upon  him  as  she  looked  upon  her 
self,  as  some  one  who  must  be  young,  eager,  full  of  life,  and 
she  was  not  willing  to  accept  that  he  had  been  set  apart, 
and  to  think  that  he  could  never  marry.  She  looked  at 
him  at  times  quite  appealingly,  but  he  was  religious  and 
sealed  to  his  vows. 

At  St.  Agatha's  she  was  rather  a  difficult  person  to  deal 
with.  She  was,  as  the  good  sisters  of  the  school  readily 
perceived,  too  full  of  life,  too  active,  to  be  easily  con 
trolled.  "That  Miss  Butler,"  observed  Sister  Constan- 
tia,  the  Mother  Superior,  to  Sister  Sempronia,  Aileen's  im 
mediate  mentor,  "is  a  very  spirited  girl.  You  may  have 
a  great  deal  of  trouble  with  her  unless  you  use  a  good  deal 
of  tact.  You  may  have  to  coax  her  with  little  gifts.  You 
will  get  on  better."  So  Sister  Sempronia  sought  to  find 
what  Aileen  was  most  interested  in,  and  bribe  her  there 
with.  Being  intensely  conscious  of  her  father's  com 
petence,  and  vain  of  her  personal  superiority,  it  was  not 
so  easy  to  do.  She  wanted  to  go  home  occasionally, 
though;  she  wanted  to  be  allowed  to  wear  the  sister's 
rosary  of  large  beads  with  its  pendent  cross  of  ebony  and 
its  silver  Christ,  and  this  was  held  up  as  a  great  privilege. 
For  keeping  quiet  in  class,  walking  softly,  and  speaking 

223 


THE    FINANCIER 

softly — as  much  as  it  was  in  her  to  do — for  not  stealing 
into  other  girls'  rooms  after  lights  were  out,  and  for 
abandoning  crushes  on  this  and  that  sympathetic  sister, 
these  awards  and  others,  such  as  walking  out  in  the 
grounds  on  Saturday  afternoons,  being  allowed  to  have 
all  the  flowers  she  wanted,  some  extra  dresses,  jewels, 
etc.,  were  offered.  She  liked  music  and  the  idea  of  paint 
ing,  though  she  could  not  paint;  and  books,  novels,  in 
terested  her,  but  she  could  not  get  them.  The  rest — 
grammar,  spelling,  sewing,  church  and  general  history — 
she  loathed  them.  Deportment — well,  there  was  some 
thing  in  that.  She  liked  the  rather  exaggerated  courtesies 
they  taught  her,  and  she  often  reflected  on  how  she  would 
use  them  when  she  reached  home. 

When  she  came  out  into  life  the  little  social  distinctions 
which  have  been  indicated  began  to  impress  themselves 
on  her,  and  she  wished  sincerely  that  her  father  would 
build  a  better  home — a  mansion — such  as  those  she  could 
see  elsewhere,  and  launch  her  properly  in  society.  Failing 
in  that,  she  could  think  of  nothing  save  clothes,  jewels, 
riding-horses,  carriages,  and  the  appropriate  changes  of 
costume  which  were  allowed  her  for  these.  Her  family 
could  not  entertain  in  any  distinguished  way  where  they 
were,  and  so  already,  at  nineteen,  she  was  beginning  to 
feel  the  sting  of  a  blighted  ambition.  She  was  eager  for 
life.  How  was  she  to  get  it? 

Her  room  was  a  study  in  the  foibles  of  an  eager  and 
ambitious  mind.  It  was  full  of  clothes,  beautiful  things 
for  all  occasions,  which  she  had  small  opportunity  to 
wear.  Her  shoes,  stockings,  lingerie,  laces,  rings,  and 
pins  were  legion.  She  had  a  dozen  necklaces.  In  a 
crude  way  she  had  made  a  study  of  perfumes  and  cos 
metics,  though  she  needed  the  latter  not  at  all,  and  these 
were  present  in  abundance.  She  was  not  very  orderly, 
rather  the  other  way  about,  and  she  loved  lavishness  of 
display;  and  so  her  curtains,  hangings,  table  ornaments, 
and  pictures  inclined  to  gorgeousness,  which  did  not  go 

224 


THE    FINANCIER 

well  with  the  rest  of  the  house.  One  might  have  said  she 
was  giving  early  evidences  of  a  sybaritic  temperament; 
but  time  and  opportunity  might  have  corrected  many 
things. 

This  approaching  occasion  of  the  Cowperwood  ball  had 
foreshadowed  something  better  than  she  had  known 
socially,  and  it  gave  her  a  sense  of  possible  rivalry  with 
girls  of  equal  or  better  station  whom  she  had  never  seen. 
She  was  conscious  there  would  be  a  number  of  strange  young 
men  there,  dandies  of  the  class  she  had,  in  a  way,  been 
dreaming  of,  young  men  of  sufficient  refinement  and  force 
and  station  to  suit  her  ideas  of  a  matrimonial  possibility; 
but  since  she  had  been  meditating  these  things  Cowper 
wood  had  appeared  as  something  more  definite  in  her 
mind  than  he  had  been  before,  and  to  save  herself  she 
could  not  get  him  out  of  her  consciousness.  The  things 
that  he  said  and  did  interested  her;  the  fact  that  his 
wife  was  older  and  not  so  fascinatingly  good-looking  was 
a  point  well  taken.  His  commercial  connections  with  her 
father;  his  handsome  bank  building,  which  she  had  noticed 
in  Third  Street;  his  new  house,  executed  with  so  much 
taste  by  Mr.  Ellsworth,  stayed  with  her  as  impressive 
facts.  She  could  recall,  and  did  often  without  knowing 
why,  his  peculiarities  of  manner — a  certain  rigidity  of  eye, 
a  certain  elasticity  of  step,  a  lightness  of  curl  to  his  hair; 
and  he  was  growing  a  mustache.  It  became  him,  a  fine, 
dark,  bristly  mustache.  He  was  always  so  definite.  He 
said  exactly  what  he  meant,  and  his  soft,  low,  even  voice 
had  a  sting  in  it.  She  could  tell  where  he  was  in  the 
room  without  looking  for  him  or  hearing  him. 

To-night,  when  she  was  dressing  in  her  boudoir,  a  vision 
of  him  had  come  to  her.  She  had  dressed  in  a  way  for 
him.  She  was  never  forgetful  of  the  times  he  had  looked 
at  her  in  an  interested  way,  the  times  he  had  said  di 
rectly  and  forcefully  that  she  looked  "stunning"  or 
"beautiful."  He  had  commented  on  her  hands  once. 
To-day,  when  she  had  worn  her  rather  subdued  street 

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THE    FINANCIER 

costume,  he  had  said  that  she  looked  "stunning,"  and 
she  had  thought  how  easy  it  would  be  to  impress  him 
to-night — to  show  him  how  truly  beautiful  she  was, 
how  really  stunning  she  could  look.  Why?  He  was  a 
married  man!  She  had  no  idea  that  he  was  going  to 
desert  his  good-looking  wife  and  his  beautiful  home  and 
take  up  with  her — marry  her — and  that  was  what  any 
interest  like  this  should  normally  mean.  She  really  had 
no  business  to  be  dressing  for  him;  but  there  was,  never 
theless,  little  thought  of  the  other  young  men,  some  of 
them  decidedly  eligible,  who  were  sure  to  be  there.  She 
stood  before  her  mirror  between  eight  and  nine — it  was 
nine-fifteen  before  she  was  really  ready — and  pondered 
over  what  she  would  wear.  The  matter  of  the  selection 
of  a  gown  did  not  come  up  immediately,  for  there  was 
undressing  and  underdressing  to  do,  and  in  the  selection 
of  stockings,  shoes,  lingerie,  and  a  corset  she  was  oddly 
finicky.  There  were  two  tall  pier  mirrors  in  her  ward 
robe — an  unduly  large  piece  of  furniture — and  one  in 
her  closet  door.  She  stood  before  the  latter  looking  at 
her  bare  arms  and  shoulders,  her  shapely  figure,  thinking 
of  the  prettiness  of  her  smooth  black-silk-stockinged  legs, 
of  the  fact  that  her  left  shoulder  had  a  dimple,  and  that 
she  had  selected  garnet  garters  garnished  with  heart- 
shaped  silver  buckles.  She  had  discovered  them  in  one 
of  the  jewelry  stores  recently  and  purchased  them.  The 
corset  could  not  be  made  quite  tight  enough  at  first,  and 
she  chided  her  maid,  Kathleen  Kelly.  It  was  at  this 
time  she  was  studying  how  to  fix  her  hair,  and  there  was 
much  ado  about  that  before  it  was  finally  adjusted. 
Before  her  mirror  she  penciled  her  eyebrows  and  plucked 
at  her  hair  about  her  forehead  to  make  it  loose  and 
shadowy.  She  cut  the  black  court-plaster  with  her  nail- 
shears,  and  tried  different-sized  pieces  in  different  places. 
Finally  she  found  one  size  and  one  place  that  suited  her. 
She  turned  her  head  from  side  to  side,  looking  at  the  com 
bined  effect  of  her  hair,  her  penciled  brows,  her  dimpled 

226 


THE    FINANCIER 

shoulder,  and  the  black  beauty-spot.  She  stood  up  straight 
in  all  her  proud  beauty  and  admired  herself.  If  some 
one  man  could  see  her  as  she  was  now,  some  time.  Which 
man?  That  thought  scurried  back  like  a  frightened  rat 
into  its  hole.  She  was,  for  all  her  strength,  afraid  of  the 
thought  of  the  one — the  very  deadly — the  man. 

And  then  she  came  to  the  matter  of  a  train-gown. 
Kathleen  laid  out  five,  for  Aileen  had  come  into  the  joy 
and  honor  of  these  things  recently,  and  she  had,  with  the 
permission  of  her  mother  and  father,  indulged  herself 
to  the  full.  She  studied  a  golden-yellow  silk,  with  cream- 
lace  shoulder-braces,  and  some  gussets  of  garnet  beads 
in  the  train  that  shimmered  delightfully,  but  set  it 
aside.  She  took  and  considered  favorably  a  black-and- 
white  striped  silk  of  odd  gray  effect,  and,  though  she 
was  sorely  tempted  to  wear  it,  finally  let  it  go.  There 
was  a  maroon  dress,  with  basque  and  overskirt  over 
white  silk;  a  rich  cream-colored  satin;  and  then  this 
black  sequined  gown,  which  she  finally  chose.  She  tried 
on  the  cream-colored  satin  first,  however,  being  in  much 
doubt  about  it;  but  her  penciled  eyes  and  beauty-spot 
did  not  seem  to  endure  it  very  well.  Then  she  put  on  the 
black  silk  with  its  glistening  crimsoned-silver  sequins,  and, 
lo,  it  touched  her.  She  liked  its  coquettish  drapery  of  tulle 
and  silver  about  the  hips.  The  "overskirt,"  in  all  its 
varying  forms,  was  at  that  time  just  coming  into  fashion, 
and  was  avoided  by  the  more  conservative ;  but  Aileen  had 
adopted  it  at  once  with  enthusiasm.  She  thrilled  a  little  at 
the  rustle  of  this  black  dress,  and  thrust  her  chin  and  nose 
forward  to  make  it  set  right,  and  had  it  undone  after  it  was 
buttoned  to  have  Kathleen  tighten  her  corsets  the  more; 
and  then  when  she  was  buttoned  again,  she  gathered  the 
train  over  her  arm  by  its  train-band  and  looked  again. 
Something  was  wanting.  Oh  yes,  her  neck!  What  to 
wear — red  coral?  It  did  not  look  right.  A  string  of 
pearls?  She  had  a  beautiful  necklace.  It  would  not  do. 
There  was  a  necklace  made  of  small  cameos  set  in  silver 

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THE    FINANCIER 

which  her  mother  had  purchased,  and  another  of  diamonds 
which  belonged  to  her  mother;  but  they  were  not  right. 
Finally  her  jet  necklet,  which  she  did  not  value  very 
highly,  came  into  her  mind,  and,  oh,  how  it  looked! 
How  soft  and  smooth  and  glistening  her  chin  looked  above 
it.  She  caressed  her  neck  affectionately,  called  for  her 
black-lace  mantilla,  her  long  black-silk  dolman  lined  with 
red,  and  she  was  ready. 

"Oh,  Aileen,  aren't  you  ever  coming?"  had  sounded  a 
dozen  times  on  the  stairs.  It  was  Norah's  complaining 
but  sisterly  and  affectionate  voice. 

"Aileen!" 

That  was  her  father. 

"Aren't  youse  soon  ready,  now?" 

That  was  the  affectionate  voice  of  her  dear,  darling 
mother,  who  wanted  to  get  her  off  in  reasonable  time. 

"Yes,  I'm  coming  now,"  she  finally  declared,  and  she 
swept  out. 

The  ball-room,  as  she  entered,  was  lovely  enough.  The 
young  men  and  women  she  saw  there  were  interesting; 
and,  being  so  much  of  a  gorgeous  picture,  she  was  not  want 
ing  for  admirers.  Stalwart  youths  craved  introductions 
of  her  brothers,  or  of  those  who  had  been  introduced, 
and  she  was  permitted  to  nod  smilingly  to  many  girls  of 
her  own  age  and  women  older  than  herself,  to  whom  she 
was  led  by  charmed  brothers  and  somewhat  too  eager 
sons.  The  most  aggressive  and  liberal  of  these  youths — 
the  most  forceful  in  their  opinions — recognized  in  this 
maiden  a  fillip  to  life,  a  sting  to  existence.  She  was 
rather  as  a  honey-jar  surrounded  by  too  hungry  flies. 

"Oh,  are  all  your  dances  gone?  No?  Then  you  won't 
mind  giving  me  one." 

They  showed  even,  ingratiating  teeth  and  smiling  eyes. 
It  had  not  been  known  that  Edward  Butler's  daughter 
was  so  charming.  And  he  was  rich  and  powerful,  too. 

But  it  occurred  to  her,  as  her  dance-list  was  filling  up, 
that  there  was  not  much  left  for,  say,  Mr.  Cowperwood,  if 

338 


THE    FINANCIER 

he  should  care  to  dance  with  her  at  all.  He  had  not  come 
near  her  as  yet.  She  had  not  seen  him  since  she  left  the 
reception-room.  He  was  probably  there,  and  he  might 
not  want  to  dance  at  all. 

"Have  you  a  spare  dance  left?" 

It  was  a  shining  cavalier  in  immaculate  linen — Mr. 
Arthur  Rivers,  no  less — who  was  asking. 

"I'm  sorry."  Her  head  was  up,  her  eyes  level. 
"They  are  all  gone."  It  was  a  lie.  There  were  three 
left;  and  he  was  so  nice,  too. 

With  ruthless,  instinctive  artifice  it  occurred  to  her 
that  she  could  claim  confusion  and  misunderstanding 
as  to  numbers  if  it  came  to — if  it  came  to  the  necessity 
of  making  a  place  for  any  one  at  any  time.  Where  was 
he,  anyhow? 

"Won't  you  take  me  to  see  the  flowers?"  she  asked 
ingratiatingly  of  a  lad  who  was  near  her.  "I  haven't 
seen  them  yet." 

' '  Why,  certainly.   I 'm  charmed. ' '   And  off  they  strutted. 

Cowperwood  was  meditating,  as  he  received  the  last 
of  the  guests,  how  subtle  this  matter  of  sex  arrangement 
in  life  really  was.  He  was  not  at  all  sure  that  there  was 
any  law  governing  the  matter.  By  comparison  now  with 
Aileen  Butler,  his  wife  looked  rather  dull,  quite  too  old; 
and  when  he  was  ten  years  older  she  would  look  very 
much  older. 

"Oh  yes,  Ellsworth  has  made  quite  an  attractive 
arrangement  out  of  these  two  houses — better  than  we 
ever  thought  he  could  do."  He  was  talking  to  Henry 
Hale  Sanderson,  a  young  banker  of  considerable -promise, 
who  had  strolled  up.  "He  had  the  advantage  of  com 
bining  two  into  one,  and  I  think  he's  done  more  with  my 
little  one,  considering  the  limitations  of  space,  than  he 
has  with  this  big  one.  Father's  has  the  advantage  of 
size.  I  tell  the  old  gentleman  he's  simply  built  a  lean- 
to  for  me." 

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THE    FINANCIER 

He  smiled  as  he  thought  of  his  father's  good-nature,  in 
so  far  as  he  was  concerned. 

"I  like  the  way  he  harmonized  and  connected  these 
rooms.  George,  I  do  !  Clever  chap,  that.  Is  he 
here?" 

"He's  somewhere  around  here,  I  think.  Do  you  know 
him?" 

"Surely." 

"Then  you'll  meet  him." 

But  this  matter  of  building  oneself  up.  It  forced  itself 
inconsequently  but  persistently  upon  Cowperwood  as 
the  flattering  crowd  filed  past.  There  was  a  curious 
circumstance  about  it.  Prejudice  had  so  much  to  do 
with  it.  Prejudice?  Life,  so  far  as  he  could  make  out, 
was  woven  of  mistaken  ideas.  Religion  certainly  was 
one.  How  plain  it  was  that  people  with  religious  notions 
were  not  necessarily  in  accord  with  high  religious  ideas! 
And  commercial  honor!  Write  in  its  place  commercial 
necessity,  and  you  had  the  warp  and  woof  of  its  fabric. 
Men  defended  their  children — the  honor  of  them;  but 
the  children  cared  nothing  for  the  defenses  as  a  rule, 
had  to  be  constrained  in  order  that  they  might  observe 
them.  He  himself  was  a  very  excellent  example.  He 
had  two  children.  It  would  be  quite  the  same  with  them. 
And  then  take  all  of  those  who  might  have  been  good 
but  couldn't — 

"Yes,  yes,  indeed,  it's  lovely.  We're  very  pleased. 
I'm  certainly  glad  to  see  you  here." 

Yes,  there  were  thousands  who  never  had  any  chance 
at  all.  On.  'change  it  was  live  and  let  live  only,  up  to 
the  point  where  self-interest  began.  Then —  And  in 
the  banking  and  commercial  world.  God,  what  a  strug 
gle!  The  fights!  The  cries  of  the  sinking!  Strength 
was  the  thing.  A  strong,  tactful  man  could  do  anything 
if  he  could  scheme  it  out  well  enough  beforehand;  but 
one  had  to  plan  subtly,  very  subtly.  There  was  so 
much  danger,  so  much  rank  accident;  and  then  what 

230 


THE    FINANCIER 

was  it  Burns  said?     "The  best  laid  schemes  o'  mice  an' 
men  gang  aft  a-gley."     Surely,  surely. 

"Oh,  I  say,  Rivers.  Have  you  seen  De  Morgan?  He 
wants  to  see  you.  I'm  going  in  now.  Quite  a  crowd, 
isn't  it?" 

Anna  and  Mrs.  Cowperwood  had  gone  somewhere  long 
before.  His  father  and  a  number  of  his  old  cronies  were 
over  in  the  dining-room  of  his  house,  glad  to  get  away 
from  the  crowd.  He  would  have  to  stay,  and,  besides,  he 
wanted  to.  Had  he  better  dance  with  Aileen?  Mrs. 
Cowperwood  would  dance,  once  probably,  anyhow.  She 
cared  little  for  it.  And  Anna — to  be  sure.  He  would 
have  to  dance  with  Anna.  There  was  Mrs.  Seneca  Davis 
smiling  at  him  and  Aileen.  George,  how  wonderful! 
What  a  girl!  She  was  smiling  at  him  now. 

"I  suppose  your  dance-list  is  full  to  overflowing.  Let 
me  see."  He  was  standing  before  her,  and  she  was  hold 
ing  out  the  little  blue-bordered,  gold-monogrammed  book 
let.  An  orchestra  of  stringed  instruments  was  playing 
a  serenade  in  the  music-room.  The  dance  would  begin 
shortly.  There  was  plenitude  of  delicately  constructed, 
gold -tinted  chairs  about  the  walls  and  behind  the 
palms. 

He  looked  down  into  her  eyes — those  excited,  life- 
loving,  eager  eyes. 

"You're  quite  full  up.  Let  me  see.  Nine,  ten,  eleven. 
Well,  that  will  be  well  enough.  I  don't  suppose  I  shall 
want  to  dance  very  much.  It's  nice  to  be  popu 
lar." 

"I'm  not  so  sure  about  number  three.  I  think  that's 
a  mistake.  You  might  have  that  if  you  wish." 

She  was  falsifying.  Her  arms  were  beautiful.  That 
little  beauty-spot!  And  the  dimple!  He  could  see  it. 

"It  doesn't  matter  so  much  about  him,  does  it?" 

His  cheeks  flushed  a  little. 

"No." 

Her  own  flamed. 

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THE    FINANCIER 

"Well,  I'll  see  where  you  are  when  it's  called.  You 
look  so  lovely  I'm  afraid  of  you." 

He  shot  a  level,  interested  glance  at  her,  then  at  Mrs. 
Davis,  who  was  walking  near — then  left  her.  Aileen's 
bosom  heaved.  It  was  almost  hard  to  breathe  some 
times  in  this  warm  air. 


CHAPTER   XXI 

MRS.  COWPERWOOD  had  passed  the  time  of  pleas 
ure  in  dancing.  It  never  had  been  more  than  a 
mild  exhilaration — that  left-over  suggestion  of  ancient 
sensuous  emotion.  She  had  always  been  too  phlegmatic 
and  conservative  in  her  feelings — her  movements  in  it 
were  not  particularly  graceful — and  since  the  two  children 
had  come  she  was  less  inclined  than  ever  to,  as  she  would 
have  phrased  it,  "waste  her  time  in  that."  Mrs.  Cow- 
perwood,  although  she  had  yielded  to  the  strong  mag 
netic  attraction  of  Cowperwood  at  twenty-one — it  could 
not  be  called  "fiery  impetuosity" — might  well  be  de 
scribed  as  a  natural  conservator  of  public  morals.  Many 
women  have  this,  what  might  be  called  duality  of  tem 
perament — the  cold  purity  of  the  snow-drift  in  so  far  as 
the  world  may  see,  combined  with  at  times  the  murky 
flame  of  the  wanton.  They  are  ashamed  of  their  hu 
manity,  however — ashamed  of  the  passions  that  at  times 
sweep  in  and  dominate  them.  Cowperwood  had  been 
aware  of  this  subtle  duality  in  his  wife's  temperament. 
It  had  irritated  him  as  it  would  almost  always  irritate 
any  strong,  acquisitive,  direct-seeing  temperament  gifted 
with  a  scientific .  and  at  the  same  time  a  philosophic 
point  of  view.  He  objected  to  seeing  life  being  shad 
owed  at  its  meridian.  Not  that  he  wished  her  to  let  the 
whole  world  know  what  she  thought.  He  had  no  keen 
desire  to  let  the  world  in  on  his  own  private  reflections 
— quite  the  contrary.  But  this  was  a  matter  the  most 
intimate  between  him  and  her.  In  love,  where  the 
farthest  reaches  of  emotion  and  revelation  prevail,  why 
should  there  be  concealment,  or,  if  not  quite  that,  at 

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THE    FINANCIER 

least  mental  evasion  of  a  fact  which  physically  she 
subscribed  to?  Why  do  one  thing  and  think  another? 
The  religionist  will  call  Cowperwood's  attitude  evil;  the 
cowardly  life  lover,  hiding  behind  the  bulwarks  of  con 
vention,  like  a  clam  shut  in  its  shell,  will  say  that  he  was 
too  brutal — too  unnecessarily  frank.  Cowperwood  mere 
ly  noticed  the  fact  of  his  wife's  attitude  as  a  sign  of  mental 
weakness — of  a  spirit  too  frail  to  front  the  truths  of 
life.  When  he  was  younger — when  he  had  first  mar 
ried  her — there  had  been  a  kind  of  charm  in  her  shyness 
and  her  unwillingness  or  inability  to  see  life  as  it  was; 
but,  now  that  he  was  growing  into  deeper  and  sterner 
things,  it  seemed  anything  but  worth  while.  Compulsion 
to  face  hard,  brutal  facts  had  made  him  at  times  long  for 
a  wife  who  would  face  them  with  him.  Why  was  it  that 
so  often  he  could  not  tell  her  the  things  that  he  thought, 
that  he  felt  he  could  tell  Aileen,  for  instance?  He  was 
not  afraid  to  do  so,  yet  he  did  not.  Not  so  much  for  his 
sake  as  for  hers.  He  hated  to  lacerate  that  shell  of 
belief  with  which  she  clothed  the  world.  She  covered 
it  over,  as  it  were,  with  a  soft-tinted  seeming,  woven  of 
her  own  ideas  solely,  like  an  oyster  pearling  its  hard  and 
chalky  home. 

But  the  necessity  of  dancing  at  least  two  or  three  times 
this  evening  was  quite  obvious,  and  Lillian  led  the  cotillon, 
which  was  the  opening  feature,  with  her  husband.  Later 
she  danced  once  with  Arthur  Rivers,  who  was  an  old 
family  acquaintance  by  now,  and  once  with  a  younger 
friend  of  Cowperwood's,  Shelley  Brooks.  Ellsworth 
asked  her  to  dance,  but  she  felt  tired  and  a  little  bored, 
and  asked  to  be  excused.  While  she  and  Cowperwood 
were  dancing  he  noticed  the  languid  manner  in  which 
she  laid  her  arm  on  his. 

"You  don't  care  for  this  much,  do  you?"  he  observed. 

"Not  at  all.  I  never  did.  I'm  a  little  tired  to-night, 
anyhow." 

He  had  observed  how  she  had  shirked  her  music  of 

234 


THE    FINANCIER 

late  years — really  given  it  up — and  how  she  strolled  about 
as  a  rule  in  a  meditative  dream.  He  felt  no  such  indif 
ference  to  life.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  was  just  beginning 
to  take  on  real  significance  to  him.  Because  of  his  money- 
making  proclivities,  and  his  success  therein,  he  was  just 
beginning  to  feel  that  sense  of  freedom  which  the  pos 
session  of  ample  capital  conveys.  Some  natures,  the 
weaker  ones,  attain  this  sense  of  freedom  with  the  pos 
session  of  a  very  little  money — it  depends  on  their  under 
standing  of  life.  Those  with  larger  ambitions  and  per 
ceptions  require  a  great  deal.  Your  money-genius 
knows  no  sense  of  wealth  as  it  is  ordinarily  understood. 
His  total  perception  is  of  power — the  more  world-wide 
the  better.  Cowperwood  was  in  his  way  a  money-genius 
in  embryo.  He  did  not  recognize  his  own  possibilities. 
His  thought  was  that  he  might  get  to  be  worth  a  million, 
and  that  when  he  did  he  would  retire.  Curiously,  thirty- 
five  was  the  age  at  which  he  fancied  he  might  be  worth 
that  sum  if  nothing  happened.  He  was  progressing  rapid 
ly.  The  other  day,  in  an  idle  mood,  he  had  tabulated 
his  assets  and  liabilities.  He  balanced  the  former  at 
five  hundred  thousand  dollars,  and  the  latter  at  three 
hundred  thousand  dollars,  which  left  him  two  hundred 
thousand  dollars  clear  almost,  at  a  forced  sale.  If  he 
had  time  to  liquidate  slowly,  which  as  a  shrewd  business 
man  he  never  expected  to  have,  he  would  come  out  much 
better.  And  this  next  year — this  next  year — surely  it 
would  yield  him  one  hundred  thousand  dollars  more. 
With  each  additional  dollar  stored  up  he  had  greater 
realizing  facilities — larger  ability  to  take  advantage  of 
larger  opportunities.  When  he  was  thirty-five — yes,  in 
six  years  from  now — he  might  well  be  worth  a  million,  and 
then  he  could  buy  a  yacht  and  build  himself  a  large  man 
sion  and  travel  and  see  the  world.  The  world!  The 
world !  It  called  alluringly  to  Frank  Cowperwood.  Back 
of  that  solid,  corrective  brain,  which  stood  like  a  mailed 
knight  at  the  drawbridge  of  his  fortune,  was  a  vague, 

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THE    FINANCIER 

cloudy  realm  of  beauty  as  sensuous  as  a  summer  land 
scape,  as  alluring  as  a  tinted  sea.  He  often  thought, 
when  he  was  through  fighting  what  would  he  do  ?  Where 
would  he  live?  With  whom  would  he  dwell?  Mrs. 
Cowperwood?  He  was  not  so  very  sure  of  that.  The 
world  was  very  wide  and  very  strange  and  very  beauti 
ful.  He  would  wait  and  see.  He  would  work  and  see. 

While  he  was  dancing,  first  with  Mrs.  Cowperwoocl, 
and  later  with  Mrs.  Seneca  Davis,  and  still  later  with  Mrs. 
Martyn  Walker,  he  had  occasion  to  look  at  Aileen  often; 
and  each  time  that  he  did  so  there  swept  over  him  a  sense 
of  great  vigor  there,  a  content  of  raw,  dynamic  energy, 
which  came  upon  him  with  great  force.  She  was  beauti 
ful,  this  girl,  in  spite  of  his  wife's  repeated  derogatory 
comments;  and  he  felt  also  that  she  was  nearer  to  his 
clear,  aggressive,  unblinking  attitude  than  any  one  whom 
he  had  yet  seen  in  the  form  of  woman.  She  was  un 
sophisticated,  in  a  way,  that  was  plain;  and  yet  in  another 
way  it  would  take  so  little  to  make  her  understand  so 
much.  Largeness  was  the  sense  he  had  of  her — not 
physically,  though  she  was  nearly  as  tall  as  himself,  but 
emotionally.  She  seemed  so  intensely  alive.  Now,  as 
he  watched  her  whirling  about,  running  backward  at  times 
as  her  partner  ran  forward  after  her,  the  clean,  clicking 
strength  of  a  blooded  horse  was  all  that  he  could  think 
of.  Her  arms  were  so  beautiful,  undulating  through 
endless  motions;  and  her  neck — how  the  movements  of 
her  head  set  it  off !  She  passed  close  to  him  a  number  of 
times,  her  eyes  wide  and  smiling,  her  lips  parted,  her  teeth 
agleam;  and  he  felt  a  stirring  of  sympathy  and  compan 
ionship  for  her  which  he  had  not  previously  experienced. 
She  was  lovely,  all  of  her — delightful. 

"I'm  wondering  if  that  dance  is  open  now?"  he  said  to 
her,  as  he  drew  near  toward  the  beginning  of  the  third 
set.  She  was  seated  with  her  last  admirer  in  a  far  corner 
of  the  general  living-room,  a  clear  floor  now  waxed  to 
perfection.  A  few  palms  here  and  there  made  em- 

236 


THE    FINANCIER 

brasured  parapets  of  green.     "I  hope  you'll  excuse  me," 
he  added,  in  a  deferential  way,  to  her  companion. 

"Surely,"  the  latter,  a  young  blood,  replied,  rising. 

"Yes,  indeed,"  she  replied.  "And  you'd  better  stay 
here  with  me.  It's  going  to  begin  soon.  You  won't  mind, ' ' 
she  added,  to  her  companion,  giving  him  a  radiant  smile. 

"Not  at  all.    I've  had  a  lovely  waltz."    He  strolled  off. 

Cowperwood  sat  down.  ' '  That's  young  Ledoux,  isn't  it  ? 
I  thought  so.  I  saw  you  dancing.  You  like  it,  don't 
you?" 

"I'm  crazy  about  it." 

"Well,  I  can't  say  that  myself.  It's  fascinating, 
though.  Your  partner  makes  such  a  difference.  Mrs. 
Cowperwood  doesn't  care  as  much  as  I  do." 

His  mention  of  Mrs.  Cowperwood  made  her  think  of 
Lillian  in  a  faintly  derogatory  way  for  the  moment.  She 
did  not  exactly  like  her,  and  yet  she  called  here  and  liad 
at  the  other  house,  because  it  had  always,  somehow, 
seemed  a  worth-while  thing  to  do.  Mrs.  Cowperwood 
had  always  been  nice  to  her,  largely  because  of  Cowper 
wood 's  connection  with  her  father,  and  Frank  had  been 
especially  genial.  She  had  been  able  to  talk  a  good  deal 
of  herself  and  her  affairs,  and  Lillian  had  always  listened 
genially  and  placidly.  Now,  though — well — 

"I  think  you  dance  very  well." 

"I  watched  you,  too." 

"Oh,  did  you?" 

"Yes." 

He  was  a  little  keyed  up  because  of  her — slightly  cloudy 
in  his  thoughts,  because  she  was  generating  a  problem 
in  his  life,  or  would  if  he  would  let  her;  and  so  his  talk 
was  a  little  tame.  He  was  thinking  of  something  to  say 
— some  word  which  would  bring  them  a  little  nearer  to 
gether.  But  for  the  moment  he  could  not  think  of  it. 
Truth  to  tell,  he  wanted  to  say  a  great  deal. 

"  Well,  that  was  nice  of  you,"  he  added,  after  a  moment, 
"What  made  you  do  it?" 

237 


THE    FINANCIER 

He  turned  with  a  mock  air  of  inquiry.  The  music 
was  sounding.  The  dancers  were  rising.  He  arose. 

He  had  not  intended  to  give  this  particular  remark  a 
serious  turn;  but,  now  that  she  was  so  near  him,  he 
looked  into  her  eyes  steadily  but  with  a  soft  appeal 
and  said,  "Yes,  why?" 

They  had  come  out  from  behind  the  palms.  He  had 
put  his  hand  to  her  waist.  His  right  arm  held  her  left 
extended  arm  to  arm,  palm  to  palm.  Her  right  hand  was 
on  his  shoulder,  and  she  was  close  to  him,  looking  into 
his  eyes.  As  they  began  the  gay  undulations  of  the  waltz 
she  looked  away  and  then  down  without  answering.  She 
put  a  strange  force  into  her  movements,  which  were  as 
light  and  airy  as  those  of  a  butterfly.  He  felt  a  sudden 
lightness  himself,  communicated  as  by  an  invisible  cur 
rent.  He  wanted  to  match  the  suppleness  of  her  body 
with  his  own,  and  did.  Her  arms,  the  flash  and  glint 
of  the  crimson  sequins  against  the  smooth,  black  silk  of 
her  closely  fitting  dress,  her  neck,  her  glowing,  radiant 
hair,  all  combined  to  provoke  a  slight  intellectual  in 
toxication.  She  was  so  vigorously  young,  so,  to  him, 
truly  beautiful. 

"But  you  didn't  answer,"  he  continued. 

"Isn't  that  lovely  music?"  she  said. 

He  pressed  her  fingers. 

She  lifted  shy  eyes  to  him,  for,  in  spite  of  her  gay, 
aggressive  force,  she  was  a  little  afraid  of  him.  His  per 
sonality  was  obviously  so  superior.  Now  that  he  was 
so  close  to  her,  dancing,  she  conceived  of  him  as  some 
thing  quite  wonderful,  and  yet  she  experienced  a  nervous 
reaction — a  momentary  desire  to  run  away. 

"Very  well,  if  you  won't  tell  me,"  he  smiled,  mockingly. 

He  thought  she  wanted  him  to  talk  to  her  so,  to  tease 
her  with  suggestions  of  this  concealed  feeling  of  his — this 
strong  liking.  He  wondered  if  he  could  love  her  if  he 
wanted  to.  There  was  his  wife,  his  two  children.  What 
could  come  of  any  such  an  understanding  as  this,  anyhow? 

238 


THE    FINANCIER 

"Oh,  I  just  wanted  to  see  how  you  danced,"  she  said, 
tamely,  the  force  of  her  original  feeling  having  been 
weakened  by  a  thought  of  what  she  was  doing.  He 
noted  the  change  and  smiled;  it  gave  him  pause  for  the 
moment,  but  a  few  seconds  later  the  same  exalted  mood 
had  returned.  It  was  a  lovely  thing  to  be  dancing  with 
her.  He  had  not  thought  mere  dancing  could  hold  such 
charm. 

"You  like  me?"  he  said,  suddenly,  as  the  music  drew 
to  its  close. 

She  thrilled  from  head  to  toe  at  the  phrase.  A  piece 
of  ice  dropped  down  her  back  could  not  have  startled  her 
more.  It  was  apparently  tactless,  and  yet  it  was  any 
thing  but  tactless.  It  was  well  within  the  range  of  his 
subtle  understanding.  She  looked  up  quickly,  directly; 
but  his  strong  eyes  were  too  much. 

"Why,  yes,"  she  answered,  as  the  music  stopped,  try 
ing  to  keep  an  even  tone  to  her  voice.  She  was  shaken, 
though,  as  by  a  strong  blow.  She  was  glad  they  were 
walking  toward  a  chair. 

"I  like  you  so  much,"  he  said,  relaxing  his  cruel  definite- 
ness,  "that  I  wondered  if  you  really  did  like  me."  There 
was  an  appeal  in  his  voice,  soft  and  gentle.  His  manner 
was  almost  sad. 

"Why,  yes,"  she  replied,  instantly  returning  to  her 
earlier  mood  toward  him.  "You  know  I  do." 

"I  need  some  one  like  you  to  like  me,"  he  continued, 
in  the  same  vein.  "I  need  some  one  like  you  to  talk  to. 
Oh,  you  dance  beautifully.  You  are  beautiful — won 
derful." 

"We  mustn't,"  she  said.  "I  mustn't.  I  don't  know 
what  I'm  doing." 

She  looked  at  a  young  man  strolling  toward  her.  "I 
have  to  explain  to  him.  He's  the  one  I  had  this  with." 

Cowperwood  strolled  away.  It  was  quite  clear  to  him 
that  he  had  just  done  a  very  treacherous  thing.  Under 
the  current  law  of  life  he  had  no  right  to  do  it.  It  was 

239 


THE    FINANCIER 

against  the  rules,  as  they  were  understood  by  everybody. 
However  much  breaking  of  the  rules  under  the  surface 
of  things  there  might  be,  the  rules  were  still  there.  As 
he  had  heard  one  young  man  remark  once  at  school,  when 
some  story  had  been  told  of  a  boy  leading  a  girl  astray 
and  to  a  disastrous  end,  "That  isn't  the  way  at  all." 

Still,  now  that  he  had  said  this,  strong  thoughts  of  her 
were  in  his  mind.  It  is  curious  how  we  grow  on  what 
we  eat.  We  seem  at  times  to  work  the  bellows  that 
heighten  the  flames  of  our  desires;  we  feed  the  fire  that 
ultimately  consumes  us — and  how  deliberately  and  re 
sourcefully!  Our  conscience,  as  some  one  has  said,  may 
be  as  the  shell  is  of  the  sea,  murmurous  of  morality;  but 
it  avails  nothing.  There  appears  to  exist  an  age-old 
fight  between  spirit  and  the  flesh,  God  and  the  devil, 
idealism  and  materialism,  heat  and  cold,  wealth  and 
poverty,  strength  and  weakness,  and  so  on — a  struggle 
without  evidence  of  victory  or  failure  on  either  hand. 
"From  everlasting  to  everlasting"  may  as  well  have  been 
spoken  of  evil  as  of  good.  Or  there  is  no  evil,  nor  any 
good,  as  we  understand  them. 

Aileen's  thoughts  were  interrupted  the  least  moment 
by  her  apologies  for  having  evaded  her  prospective  part 
ner  and  given  the  dance  to  some  one  else.  As  she  had 
planned  to  prevaricate,  so  she  did.  She  returned  to  her 
chair,  weary  for  the  time  being  of  other  attentions,  for 
this  sudden  definite  suggestion  of  Cowperwood's  gave  her 
so  much  to  think  of.  She  toyed  aimlessly  with  her  fan 
as  a  black-haired,  thin-faced  young  law  student  talked 
to  her,  one  of  the  scions  of  the  better  families ;  and,  seeing 
Norah  in  the  distance  through  the  hangings  separating 
this  from  the  music-room,  she  asked  to  be  allowed  to  run 
and  talk  to  her.  Mrs.  Drake  interrupted  her  flight,  but 
delineated  upon  the  fair,  plump  body  and  face — she  saw 
Cowperwood.  He  had  set  a  strange  tingling  in  her  veins. 
What  was  this  ?  Did  she  love  him  ?  Why  was  it  that  his 
straight-looking  gray  eyes  fascinated  her?  His  shoulders 

240 


THE    FINANCIER 

were  so  wide,  so  level.  He  held  himself  so  erect ;  and  there 
was  something  about  his  walk,  the  definite  and  poised  way 
in  which  he  walked,  that  caught  her  fancy.  He  was  so 
good-looking,  so  clean.  His  clear,  tinted  skin  betokened 
such  an  abundance  of  health  and  vitality. 

"Oh,  Aileen,"  called  Norah,  "I've  been  looking  for 
you  everywhere.  Where  have  you  been?" 

"Dancing,  of  course.  Where  do  you  suppose  I've 
been?  Didn't  you  see  me  on  the  floor?" 

"No,  I  didn't,"  complained  Norah,  as  though  it  were 
most  essential  that  she  should.  "How  late  are  you  going 
to  stay  to-night?" 

"Until  it's  over,  I  suppose.     I  don't  know." 

"Owen  says  he's  going  at  twelve." 

"Well,  that  doesn't  matter.  Some  one  will  take  me 
home.  Are  you  having  a  good  time?" 

"Fine.  Oh,  let  me  tell  you.  I  stepped  on  a  lady's 
dress  over  there,  last  dance.  She  was  terribly  angry. 
She  gave  me  such  a  look. ' ' 

"Well,  never  mind,  honey.  She  won't  hurt  you. 
Where  are  you  going  now?" 

Aileen  always  maintained  a  most  affectionate  attitude 
toward  her  sister. 

"I  want  to  find  Callum.  He  has  to  dance  with  me 
next  time.  I  know  what  he's  trying  to  do.  He's  trying 
to  get  away  from  me.  But  he  won't." 

Aileen  smiled.  Norah  looked  very  sweet.  And  she 
was  so  bright.  What  would  she  think  of  her  if  she  knew. 
She  turned  back,  and  her  fourth  partner  sought  her.  She 
began  talking  gaily,  for  she  felt  that  she  had  to  make 
a  show  of  composure;  but  all  the  while  there  was  ringing 
in  her  ears  that  definite  question  of  his,  "You  like  me, 
don't  you?"  and  her  later  uncertain  but  not  less  truthful 
answer,  "Yes,  of  course  I  do." 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE  growth  of  a  passion  is  a  very  peculiar  thing.  In 
the  highly  organized  intellectual  and  artistic  types 
it  is  so  often  apt  to  begin  with  keen  appreciation  of  cer 
tain  qualities,  modified  by  many,  many  mental  reserva 
tions.  The  egoist,  the  intellectual,  gives  but  little  of  him 
self  and  asks  much.  Nevertheless,  the  lover  of  life,  male  or 
female,  finding  himself  or  herself  in  sympathetic  accord 
with  such  a  nature,  is  apt  to  gain  much. 

Cowperwood  was  innately  and  primarily  your  egoist 
and  intellectual,  though  blended  strongly  therewith  was 
a  humane  and  democratic  spirit.  We  think  of  egoism 
and  intellectualism  as  closely  confined  to  the  arts.  Finance 
is  an  art.  And  it  presents  the  operations  of  the  subtlest 
of  the  intellectuals  and  of  the  egoists.  Your  true  prince 
is  primarily  a  financier  as  well  as  a  statesman.  It  were 
not  possible,  otherwise,  to  live  in  the  memory  of  the  world. 

Cowperwood  was  a  financier.  Instead  of  dwelling  on 
the  works  of  nature,  its  beauty  and  subtlety,  to  his  ma 
terial  disadvantage,  he  found  a  happy  mean,  owing  to  the 
swiftness  of  his  intellectual  operations,  whereby  he  could 
intellectually  and  emotionally  rejoice  in  the  beauty  of 
life  without  interfering  with  his  perpetual  material  and 
financial  calculations.  And  when  it  came  to  women  and 
morals,  which  involved  so  much  which  related  to  beauty, 
happiness,  a  sense  of  distinction  and  variety  in  living,  he 
was  just  now  beginning  to  think  clearly  that  there  was  no 
basis,  outside  of  convention  and  theory,  for  the  one-life, 
one-love  idea.  How  had  it  come  about  that  so  many 
people  agreed  on  this  single  point,  that  it  was  good  and 
necessary  to  marry  one  woman  and  cleave  to  her  until 

242 


THE    FINANCIER 

death?  He  did  not  know.  It  was  not  for  him  to  bother 
about  the  subtleties  of  evolution,  which  even  then  was 
being  noised  abroad,  or  to  ferret  out  the  curiosities  of 
history  in  connection  with  this  matter.  He  had  no  time. 
Suffice  it  that  the  vagaries  of  temperament  and  conditions 
with  which  he  came  into  immediate  contact  proved  to  him 
that  there  was  great  dissatisfaction,  and  over  and  under 
surface  variability  in  connection  with  the  rule.  People 
did  not  cleave  to  each  other  until  death ;  and  in  thousands 
of  cases  where  they  did,  they  did  not  want  to.  Quickness 
of  mind,  subtlety  of  idea,  fortuitousness  of  opportunity, 
made  it  possible  for  some  people  to  right  their  matri 
monial  and  social  infelicities ;  whereas  for  others,  because 
of  dullness  of  wit,  thickness  of  comprehension,  poverty, 
and  lack  of  charm,  there  was  no  escape  from  the  slough  of 
their  despond.  They  were  compelled  by  some  devilish 
accident  of  birth  to  stew  in  their  own  juice  of  wretched 
ness,  or  to  shuffle  off  this  mortal  coil — which  under  other 
circumstances  had  such  glittering  possibilities — via  the 
rope,  the  knife,  the  bullet,  or  the  cup  of  poison. 

"I  would  die,  too,"  he  thought  to  himself,  one  day, 
reading  of  a  man  who,  confined  by  disease  and  poverty, 
had  lived  for  twelve  years  alone  in  a  back  bedroom  at 
tended  by  an  old  and  probably  decrepit  housekeeper.  A 
darning-needle  forced  into  his  heart  had  ended  his  earthly 
woes.  ' '  To  the  devil  with  such  a  life !  Why  twelve  years  ? 
Why  not  at  the  end  of  the  second  or  third?"  And  if  this 
smiling  fate,  which  now  turned  to  him  such  a  radiant  face 
and  seemed  to  be  bending  over  him  with  outstretched  and 
protecting  wings,  should  turn  away  and  reveal  only 
hate  or  indifference,  he  would  quit  also.  He  would  not 
want  to  live  like  that.  He  did  not  know,  however,  how 
much  he  really  did  love  life. 

Again,  it  was  so  very  evident,  in  so  many  ways,  that 
force  was  the  answer — great  mental  and  physical  force. 
Why,  these  giants  of  commerce  and  money  could  do  as 
they  pleased  in  this  life.  The  little  guardians  of  so-called 

243 


THE    FINANCIER 

law  and  morality,  the  newspapers,  the  preachers,  the 
police,  and  the  public  moralists  generally,  so  loud  in  their 
denunciation  of  evil  in  humble  places,  were  cowards  all 
when  it  came  to  corruption  in  high  ones.  They  did  not 
dare  to  utter  even  a  feeble  squeak  until  some  giant  had 
accidentally  fallen  and  they  could  do  so  without  danger 
to  themselves.  Then,  0  heavens,  what  a  palaver!  What 
beatings  of  tom-toms!  Run  now,  good  people,  for  you 
may  see  clearly  how  evil  is  dealt  with  in  high  places!  It 
made  him  smile.  Such  hypocrisy!  Such  cant!  Still, 
so  the  world  was  organized,  and  it  was  not  for  him  to  set 
it  right.  Let  it  wag  as  it  would.  The  thing  for  him  to 
do  was  to  get  rich  and  hold  his  own — to  build  up  a  seem 
ing  of  virtue  and  dignity  which  would  pass  muster  for 
the  genuine  thing.  Force  would  do  that.  Quickness  of 
wit.  And  he  had  these.  Let  the  world  wag.  "I  satisfy 
myself,"  was  his  motto;  and  it  might  well  have  been  em 
blazoned  upon  any  coat  of  arms  which  he  could  have  con 
trived  to  set  forth  his  claim  to  intellectual  and  social 
nobility. 

But  this  matter  of  Aileen,  which  had  come  to  a  definite 
point,  was  up  for  consideration  and  solution  at  this  pres 
ent  moment,  and  because  of  his  forceful,  determined 
character  he  was  not  at  all  disturbed  by  the  problem  it 
presented.  It  was  a  problem,  like  some  of  those  knotty 
financial  complications  which  presented  themselves  daily; 
but  it  was  not  insoluble.  What  did  he  want  to  do?  He 
couldn't  leave  his  wife  and  fly  with  Aileen,  that  was  cer 
tain.  He  had  too  many  connections.  He  had  too  many 
subtle  things  to  bind  him.  Besides,  he  was  not  at  all 
sure  that  he  wanted  to.  He  did  not  intend  to  leave  his 
growing  interests,  and  at  the  same  time  he  did  not  intend 
to  give  up  Aileen  immediately.  The  unheralded  mani 
festation  of  interest  on  her  part  was  too  attractive.  Mrs. 
Cowperwood  was  no  longer  what  she  should  be  physically 
and  mentally,  in  so  far  as  he  was  concerned.  To  be  sure, 
she  was  devoted  to  him  in  her  quiet  way,  not  passionately 

244 


THE    FINANCIER 

(as  he  looked  back  he  could  not  say  that  she  had  ever 
been  that),  but  intellectually.  Duty,  as  she  understood 
it,  played  a  great  part  in  this.  She  was  dutiful.  And 
then  what  people  thought,  what  the  time-spirit  demanded 
—these  were  the  great  things.  Aileen,  on  the  contrary, 
was  probably  not  dutiful,  and  it  was  obvious  that  she  had 
no  temperamental  connection  with  current  convention. 
No  doubt  she  had  been  as  well  instructed  as  many  another 
girl,  but  look  at  her.  She  was  not  obeying  her  instruc 
tions.  She  was  flirting  with  him,  and  she  was  as  charm 
ing  a  bit  of  modeling  as  the  laboratory  of  nature  had 
ever  produced.  He  had  never  seen  a  more  striking-looking 
girl  than  she  was  this  night.  He  had  never  seen  any  one 
more  beautiful;  and  she  was  so  full  of  that  passionate 
will  to  live.  Why,  here  was  a  piece  of  fleshly  fire,  and  she 
was  drawing  to  him  out  of  pure  temperamental  affiliation. 

There  were  a  few  more  words  between  them  during 
another  dance  this  evening,  but  he  was  afraid  to  say  too 
much.  She  was  excited,  and  then  people  might  be  look 
ing.  Because  of  her  costume,  and  the  astonishing  force 
it  lent  to  her  charms,  she  was  the  cynosure  of  many 
eyes,  and  not  unenvious  ones.  She  had  made  herself 
a  little  too  conspicuous.  One  remark,  though,  Cowper- 
wood  did  make  which  added  much  to  all  that  had  gone 
before.  It  was  when  they  were  passing  near  his  wife, 
seated  in  a  corner  with  Mrs.  Davis. 

"I'm  not  so  sure  Lillian  would  like  our  talking  if  she 
knew." 

"I'm  very  sure  she  wouldn't." 

She  lifted  her  eyes,  and  they  glided  gracefully  out  of 
the  reach  of  a  swirl  of  figures. 

So  she  was  thinking  of  that,  too.  The  difficulty  of 
complications  was  not  out  of  her  mind.  He  admired  her 
for  her  direct,  incisive  fronting  of  her  moods. 

"What  would  your  father  think?" 

He  was  suffering  from  a  brief,  feverish  choking  of  th$ 
throat. 

245 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

"I've  been  thinking  of  that." 

He  felt  a  keen  desire  to  kiss  her,  something  that  had 
not  formulated  itself  so  definitely  before.  And  she  would 
let  him,  that  he  knew,  after,  perhaps,  a  deadly  nervous 
strain  which  might  be  slightly  antagonistic. 

"I'm  a  little  dizzy  to-night,"  he  said.  "You're  like 
a  dose  of  poison  in  my  veins." 

"Poison?" 

"Love-poison." 

The  music  stopped,  and  after  a  while  he  saw  her  going 
out,  her  black-silk  dolman  wrapped  loosely  about  her 
body.  Owen  was  with  her. 

"Good  night,  Mrs.  Cowperwood,"  she  said  to  his  wife. 
"I've  had  such  a  delightful  time.  And,  Mr.  Cowper 
wood,  your  new  homes  are  beautiful." 

She  extended  her  hand. 

He  pressed  the  warm,  smooth  ringers  gently. 

"I  hope  you  enjoyed  yourself." 

"I  did.     I  surely  did." 

She  swung  away,  followed  by  Owen,  and  Cowperwood 
followed  her  with  his  eyes. 

"A  beautiful  creature,"  he  thought,  "and  absolutely  ir 
responsible,  self-willed,  and  wonderful." 

In  the  next  three  months  this  relationship  took  on  a 
more  flagrant  form.  Aileen,  knowing  full  well  what  her 
parents  would  think,  how  unspeakable  in  the  mind  of  the 
current  world  were  the  thoughts  she  was  thinking,  per 
sisted,  nevertheless,  in  so  thinking  and  longing.  Cow 
perwood,  now  that  she  had  gone  thus  far  and  com 
promised  herself  in  intention,  if  not  in  deed,  took  on 
a  peculiar  charm  for  her.  It  was  not  his  body — great 
passion  is  never  that,  exactly.  The  flavor  of  his  spirit 
was  what  attracted  and  compelled,  like  the  glow  of  a 
flame  to  a  moth.  There  was  a  light  of  romance  in  his 
eye  which,  however,  was  so  governed  and  controlled  that 
he  seemed  all-powerful.  Her  father  was  a  wonderful  man 

246 


THE    FINANCIER 

to  her,  with  his  rugged  frame  and  face;  but  this  youth, 
so  much  smaller,  comparatively  speaking,  was  even  more 
so.  When  he  touched  her  hand  at  parting,  it  was  as  though 
she  had  received  an  electric  shock,  and  she  recalled  that 
it  was  very  difficult  for  her  to  look  him  straight  in  the 
eye.  Something  akin  to  a  destructive  force  seemed  to 
issue  from  them  at  times.  Other  people,  men  particularly, 
found  it  difficult  to  look  into  Cowperwood's  glazed  stare 
persistently.  It  was  as  though  there  were  another  pair 
of  eyes  behind  watching  through  thin,  impenetrable  cur 
tains.  You  could  not  tell  what  they  were  like — what  he 
was  thinking. 

It  could  not  be  said  that  she  was  going  outside  of  her 
temperament  to  do  evil.  And  was  that  temperament 
evil?  It  is  so  easy  in  this  world  to  divide  the  sheep  and 
the  goats  in  a  superficial  way.  The  slogan  of  the  moral 
ist  is  that  we  can  all  do  right  if  we  want  to.  The  answer 
is  that  the  spirit  of  man  is  clothed  over  with  a  fleshly 
envelope  which  has  moods  and  subtleties  of  its  own.  The 
spirit  of  man  may,  as  the  idealistic  metaphysicians  have 
it,  be  a  reflection  of  a  perfect  unity  which  governs  the 
universe,  or  it  may  not.  It  depends  on  how  one  conceives 
the  governing  spirit  of  the  universe.  But  of  the  mold 
into  which  this  spirit  is  born,  who  shall  say?  There  are 
time  moods,  and  nation  moods,  and  climate  moods,  and 
they  bring  forth  great  clouds  of  individuals  curiously 
minded.  Our  particular  national  temperament  appears 
to  be  conservative,  at  least  in  so  far  as  conforming  out 
wardly  to  a  fixed  social  code  is  concerned.  Underneath, 
what  are  we?  You  might  as  well  have  said  to  a  thistle, 
"Be  a  grapevine,  or  we  will  destroy  you,"  as  to  have 
said  to  Aileen  Butler,  "Be  a  calm,  placid,  virtuous  girl, 
or  society  will  cast  you  out."  Aileen  Butler  might  well 
have  answered,  if  she  could  have  reasoned  so  far,  "How 
can  I?"  Even  in  the  face  of  the  threatening  force  of 
society  it  would  have  been  difficult  for  her  at  any  time. 
There  were  strange,  unconventional  moods  stirring  in  her, 

247 


THE    FINANCIER 

and  strange  longings.  She  was  seeking  some  wondrous, 
peculiar,  individual  destiny,  just  as  a  thistle  is  unques 
tionably  seeking  to  perfect  a  red,  thorny  blossom. 
Root  it  out?  Precisely.  Society  does  precisely  that 
when  it  finds  something  that  does  not  agree  with  its 
current  mood.  The  "murmurous  morality"  of  the  uni 
verse  has  its  representatives  everywhere,  and  they  are 
actually  fighting  the  representatives  of  what  they  conceive 
to  be  the  unrighteous.  So  Aileen  would  fare  badly  if  she 
were  discovered  even  in  her  secret  longings.  But  she  was 
not  discovered  as  yet. 

And  during  these  three  months  she  was  coming  closer 
and  closer  to  Cowperwood,  for,  being  at  his  house  one 
evening,  seated  at  the  piano,  and  no  one  being  present 
at  the  moment,  he  leaned  over  and  kissed  her.  She  was 
the  least  bit  pensive  at  the  time,  as  the  sensualistic  tempera 
ment  is  apt  to  be.  There  was  a  cold,  snowy  street  visible 
through  the  interstices  of  the  hangings  of  the  windows, 
and  gas-lamps  flickering  outside.  She  had  not  betaken 
her  way  to  her  own  home  yet  for  dinner,  because  Norah 
was  next  door  at  the  Henry  Cowperwoods'  home  talking 
with  Anna.  Norah  had  become  Anna's  pet.  Cowper 
wood  had  come  in  early.  He  was  in  his  wife's  boudoir 
for  a  little  while,  and  then,  hearing  Aileen,  he  came  to 
where  she  was  seated  at  the  piano.  Her  attractive  body 
was  set  off  by  a  rough,  gray-wool  cloth,  jauntily  sugges 
tive  of  her  temperament.  It  was  ornately  banded  with  a 
fringed  Oriental  embroidery  in  inch-deep  blue  and  burnt 
orange,  and  her  beauty  was  further  enhanced  by  a  gray  hat 
planned  to  match  her  dress,  with  a  plume  of  shaded 
orange  and  blue.  On  her  fingers  were  four  or  five  rings, 
far  too  many — an  opal,  an  emerald,  a  ruby,  and  a  dia 
mond — flashing  visibly  upon  her  hands  as  «she  played. 
He  watched  her  from  the  fireplace  in  the  living-room, 
looking  through  the  great  opening  into  the  parlor,  and 
then  approached. 

She  knew  who  it  was  without  turning.  He  came  be- 

248 


THE    FINANCIER 

side  her  and  she  looked  up  smiling,  not  interrupting  the 
reverie  she  was  attempting  to  recall  from  Schubert. 
Suddenly  he  bent  over  and  pressed  his  lips  firmly  to  hers. 
His  mustache  thrilled  her  with  its  silky  touch.  She 
stopped  playing  and  tried  to  catch  her  breath,  for,  strong 
as  she  was,  it  affected  her  breathing.  Her  heart  was 
beating  like  a  trip-hammer.  She  did  not  say  "oh,"  or 
"you  mustn't,"  but  rose  and  walked  over  near  a  window 
less  visible  than  the  piano  from  the  living-room,  and 
lifted  the  curtain,  pretending  to  look  out.  She  felt  as 
though  she  might  faint,  so  intensely  happy  was  she. 

Cowperwood  followed  her  quickly.  Slipping  his  arms 
about  her  waist,  he  pulled  her  head  back,  looking  at  her 
flushed  cheeks,  her  clear,  moist  eyes,  her  red  mouth. 

"You  love  me?"  he  whispered,  rather  grim  with  desire. 

' '  Yes ;  yes !     You  know  I  do. " 

He  crushed  her  face  to  his,  and  she  put  up  her  hands 
and  stroked  his  hair. 

A  terrible  feeling  of  possession,  mastery,  happiness, 
and  understanding,  love  of  her  and  of  her  body,  suddenly 
overwhelmed  him. 

"I  love  you,"  he  said,  as  though  he  were  surprised  to 
hear  himself  say  it.  "I  didn't  think  I  did;  but  I  do. 
You're  beautiful.  I'm  wild  about  you  now." 

"And  I  love  you,"  she  answered.  "I  can't  help  it.  I 
know  I  shouldn't,  but — oh — "  Her  hands  closed  tight 
over  his  ears  and  temples.  She  put  her  lips  to  his  and 
dreamed  into  his  eyes.  Then  she  stepped  away  quickly, 
looking  out  into  the  street,  and  he  walked  back  into  the 
sitting-room.  No  one  had  come.  They  were  quite  alone. 
He  was  debating  whether  he  should  risk  anything  further 
when  Norah  appeared,  and  not  long  afterward  Mrs. 
Cowperwood.  Then  Aileen  and  Norah  left. 

9 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THIS  definite  and  final  understanding  having  been 
reached,  it  was  but  natural  that  this  liaison  should 
proceed  to  a  closer  and  closer  relationship.  It  is  useless 
to  speculate  on  the  horror  of  it  as  those,  conventionally 
minded,  will  surely  do.  There  is  or  has  been  much 
theorizing  in  this  world  concerning  the  need  of  following 
the  inward  light  or  leading  which  all  are  supposed  to 
possess.  That  there  may  be  superimposed  upon  the  mass 
a  social  conscience  which  has  nothing  to  do  with  the 
normal  bent  or  chemical  nature  of  the  individual  occurs 
to  few.  A  Christian  ideal  had  been  poured  out  upon  the 
world  like  a  sea  of  air,  and  those  who  live  in  it,  who  are 
many,  draw  their  convictions  as  their  breath  from  that. 
It  is  not  necessarily  native  to  them.  Something  under 
neath — the  flesh,  for  instance,  and  material  pleasure — wars 
against  it;  but  it  is  almost  a  part  of  their  blood,  so  long 
has  the  world  moved  in  it.  Still  the  native  materiality 
of  man  will  not  down  any  more  than  his  ideality.  Per 
haps  the  two  go  hand  in  hand.  Before  Christianity  was 
man,  and  after  it  he  will  also  be.  A  metaphysical  idealism 
will  always  tell  him  that  it  is  better  to  preserve  a  cleanly 
balance,  and  the  storms  of  circumstance  will  teach  him 
a  noble  stoicism.  Beyond  this  there  is  nothing  which 
can  reasonably  be  imposed  upon  the  conscience  of  man. 
Aileen,  despite  her  religious  training,  was  decidedly  a 
victim  of  her  temperament.  Current  religious  feeling  and 
belief  could  not  control  her.  During  all  these  years,  for 
at  least  nine  or  ten,  there  had  been  slowly  forming  in  her 
mind  a  notion  of  what  her  lover  should  be  like.  He  should 
be  strong,  handsome,  direct,  successful,  with  clear  eyes,  a 

250 


THE    FINANCIER 

ruddy  glow  of  health,  and  a  certain  native  understanding 
and  sympathy — a  love  of  life  which  matched  her  own. 
Many  young  men  had  approached  her.  Perhaps  the  near 
est  realization  of  her  ideal  was  Father  David,  of  St. 
Timothy's;  and  he  was,  of  course,  a  priest,  and  sworn  to 
celibacy.  No  word  had  ever  passed  between  them.  Then 
came  Frank  Cowperwood;  and  by  degrees,  because  of  his 
presence  and  contact,  he  had  been  slowly  built  up  in  her 
mind  as  the  ideal  person.  From  the  time  she  had  first 
seen  him,  as  he  stood  talking  to  her  father  on  their  own 
doorstep — the  time  she  dashed  past  him  in  red  cape  and 
hood — until  now,  there  had  been  a  strong  pull  from  him  to 
her.  She  was  drawn  as  some  planets  are  drawn  by  the 
sun.  Moral  speculations  really  had  nothing  to  do  with 
it.  They  were  of  no  service  one  way  or  the  other.  Her 
family  training  was  of  no  value.  This  emotion  rose  quick 
ly,  like  a  swelling  tide,  and  drowned  thoughts  of  family 
training  and  everything  else.  The  passions  are  never 
concerned  with  rules  of  life,  anyhow.  Beauty  of  dress, 
beauty  of  appearance,  some  one  to  love  her,  some  man 
like  this  man — the  man — to  tell  her  that  she  was  sweet 
and  lovely  and  beautiful — to  fondle  her  as  Cowperwood 
was  now  beginning  to  do — that  was  what  she  wanted. 
After  she  had  left  him  this  night,  going  home  with  Norah, 
she  would  have  given  anything  to  have  been  able  to  run 
back,  unimpeded  in  any  way,  and  fling  herself  in  his  arms. 
She  wanted  to  be  held  on  his  lap,  to  feel  his  arms  around 
her,  his  cheek  against  hers,  his  lips  against  her  lips.  Oh, 
the  bliss  of  that!  If  she  could  only  be  with  him  now, 
just  after  he  had  told  her  that  he  loved  her  so'.  The  blood 
of  her  heart  buzzed  in  her  brain.  There  was  a  murmur 
ous  rumbling  in  her  ears.  Her  eyes  swam  with  visions. 
The  guiding  light  within  was  quite  submerged.  If  it 
ever  had  any  force,  it  was  quite  non-existent  at  this  mo 
ment.  Love!  Love!  That  was  the  greatest  thing  in 
the  world.  And  Frank  Cowperwood  was  the  loveliest, 
most  wonderful,  most  beautiful  man  that  ever  was. 

251 


THE    FINANCIER 

It  is  a  question  what  would  have  happened  if  antago 
nistic  forces  could  have  been  introduced  just  at  this  time. 
Emotions  and  liaisons  of  this  character  can,  of  course, 
occasionally  be  broken  up  and  destroyed.  The  char 
acters  of  the  individuals  can  be  modified  or  changed  to  a 
certain  extent,  but  the  force  must  be  quite  sufficient. 
Fear  is  a  great  deterrent — fear  of  material  loss  where 
there  is  no  spiritual  dread;  but  wealth  and  position  so 
often  tend  to  destroy  this  dread.  It  is  so  easy  to  scheme 
with  means. 

Aileen  had  no  spiritual  dread  whatever.  Cowperwood 
had  no  spiritual,  or,  perhaps  better,  no  religious  thought 
whatsoever.  Religion  meant  nothing  to  him.  He  looked 
at  this  girl,  and  his  one  thought  was  how  could  he  so 
deceive  the  world  that  he  could  enjoy  her  love  and  leave 
his  present  state  undisturbed.  Love  her  he  did  surely. 

He  called  at  Butler's  house  on  business  on  several 
occasions,  and  on  each  occasion  he  saw  Aileen.  She 
managed  to  slip  forward  and  squeeze  his  hand  the  first 
time  he  came — to  steal  a  quick,  vivid  kiss;  and  another 
time,  as  he  was  going  out,  she  suddenly  appeared  from 
behind  the  curtains  hanging  at  the  parlor  door. 

"Honey!" 

The  voice  was  soft  and  coaxing.  He  turned,  giving 
her  a  warning  nod  in  the  direction  of  her  father's  room 
up-stairs. 

She  stood  there,  holding  out  one  hand,  and  he  stepped 
forward  for  a  second.  Instantly  her  arms  were  about 
his  neck,  as  he  slipped  his  about  her  waist. 

"I  long  to  see  you  so." 

"I,  too.     I'll  fix  some  way.     I'm  thinking." 

He  released  her  arms,  and  went  out;  and  she  slipped 
to  the  window  and  looked  out  after  him.  He  was  walking 
west  on  the  street,  for  his  house  was  only  a  few  blocks 
away ;  and  she  looked  at  the  shape  of  his  body,  the  breadth 
of  his  shoulders,  the  balance  of  his  form.  He  stepped  so 
briskly,  so  incisively.  Ah,  that  was  a  man !  That  was  her 

252 


THE    FINANCIER 

Frank.  She  thought  of  him  in  that  light  already.  And 
now  he  was  gone.  If  she  could  only  be  with  him.  She 
sat  down  at  the  piano  and  played  pensively  until  dinner, 
then  went  to  her  room  and  read.  She  had  found  a  book 
recently — Carmen — which  fascinated  her. 

It  was  so  easy  for  the  resourceful  mind  of  Frank  Cow- 
perwood  to  suggest  ways  and  means.  In  his  younger 
gallivantings  about  places  of  ill  repute,  and  his  subse 
quent  occasional  variations  from  the  straight  and  narrow 
path,  he  had  learned  much  of  the  curious  resources  of 
immorality.  Being  a  city  of  five  hundred  thousand  and 
more  at  this  time,  Philadelphia  had  its  nondescript  hotels, 
where  one  might  go,  cautiously  and  fairly  protected  from 
observation;  and  there  were  houses  of  a  conservative, 
residential  character,  where  appointments  might  be  made, 
for  a  consideration.  Once  the  scruples  of  innocence  were 
overcome,  it  was  easy  enough  to  make  those  arrange 
ments  for  hours  of  happiness  which  were  so  desirable. 
And  as  for  safeguards  against  the  production  of  new 
life — they  were  not  mysteries  to  Cowperwood  any  longer. 
He  knew  all  about  them.  Care  was  the  point — caution. 
He  had  to  be  cautious,  for  he  was  so  rapidly  coming  to 
be  an  influential  and  a  distinguished  man.  But  Aileen, 
of  course,  was  not  conscious,  except  in  a  vague  way,  of 
the  drift  of  her  passion;  the  ultimate  destiny  to  which 
this  affection  might  lead  was  not  clear  to  her.  Her 
craving  was  for  love — to  be  fondled  and  caressed — and 
she  really  did  not  think  so  much  further.  Further 
thoughts  along  this  line  were  like  rats  that  showed  their 
heads  out  of  dark  holes  in  shadowy  corners  and  scuttled 
back  at  the  least  sound.  They  did  not  ever  come  out 
into  the  clear  light  of  day.  And,  anyhow,  all  that  was 
to  be  connected  with  Cowperwood  would  be  beautiful. 
He  was  so  nice,  so  definitely  interested  in  her.  She  really 
did  not  think  that  he  loved  her  yet  as  he  should;  but  he 
would.  Mrs.  Cowperwood  had  strong  claims  on  him. 
She  did  not  know  that  she  wanted  to  interfere  with  those. 

253 


THE    FINANCIER 

She  did  not  think  she  did.  But  it  would  not  hurt  Mrs. 
Cowperwood  if  Frank  loved  her — Aileen — also. 

How  shall  we  explain  these  subtleties  of  temperament 
and  logic?  Life  has  to  deal  with  them  at  every  turn. 
No  man  nor  any  woman  is  safe  from  them.  We  might 
as  well  look  the  facts  in  the  face.  They  will  not  down, 
and  the  large,  placid  movements  of  nature  outside  of 
man's  little  organism  would  indicate  that  she  is  not  great 
ly  concerned.  We  see  much  punishment  in  the  form  of 
jails,  diseases,  failures,  and  wrecks;  but  we  also  see  that 
the  old  tendency  is  not  visibly  lessened.  Is  there  no  law 
outside  of  the  subtle  will  and  the  power  to  achieve?  If 
not,  it  is  surely  high  time  that  we  knew  it — one  and  all. 
We  might  then  agree  to  do  as  we  do ;  but  there  would  be 
no  silly  illusion  as  to  divine  regulation.  Vox  populi,  vox 
Dei. 

There  were  other  meetings,  lovely  hours  which  they 
soon  began  to  spend  the  moment  her  passion  waxed  warm 
enough  to  assure  compliance,  without  great  fear  and 
without  thought  of  the  deadly  risk  involved.  These 
matters  are  almost  always  of  slow  growth  or  develop 
ment.  From  odd  moments  in  his  own  home,  stolen  when 
there  was  no  one  about  to  see,  they  advanced  to  clandes 
tine  meetings  beyond  the  confines  of  the  city.  Cowper 
wood  was  not  one  who  was  temperamentally  inclined  to 
lose  his  head  and  neglect  his  business.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  the  more  he  thought  of  this  rather  unexpected  affec- 
tional  development,  the  more  certain  he  was  that  he  must 
not  let  it  interfere  with  his  business  time  and  judgment. 
His  office  required  his  full  attention  from  nine  until  three, 
anyhow.  He  could  give  it  until  five-thirty  with  profit; 
but  he  could  take  several  afternoons  off,  from  three- 
thirty  until  five-thirty  or  six,  and  no  one  would  be  the 
wiser.  It  was  customary  for  Aileen  to  drive  alone  almost 
every  afternoon  a  spirited  pair  of  bays,  or  to  ride  a 
mount,  bought  by  her  father  for  her  from  a  noted  horse- 
dealer  in  Baltimore.  Since  Cowperwood  drove  and  rode 

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THE    FINANCI  ER 

himself,  it  was  no  difficulty  to  arrange  meeting-places  far 
out  on  the  Wissahickon  or  the  Schuylkill  road.  There  were 
many  places,  largely  spots  in  the  newly  laid-out  park, 
which  were  as  free  from  interruption  for  hours  at  a  time 
as  the  depths  of  a  forest.  It  was  always  possible  that 
they  might  encounter  some  one;  but  it  was  always  pos 
sible  to  make  a  rather  plausible  explanation,  or  none  at 
all,  since  even  in  case  of  such  an  encounter  nothing, 
ordinarily,  would  be  suspected. 

So,  for  the  time  being,  there  was  love-making,  the  or 
dinary  billing  and  cooing  of  lovers  in  a  simple  and  much 
less  than  final  fashion;  and  the  lovely  rides  under  the 
green  trees  of  the  approaching  spring — they  both  con 
fined  themselves  to  saddle-horses — were  idyllic.  Cow- 
perwood  did  not  want  to  shock  her.  He  had  awaked  to  a 
sense  of  joy  in  life,  such  as  he  fancied  in  the  blush  of  this 
new  desire,  he  had  never  experienced  before,  and  he  wished 
to  bring  her  finally  to  him  by  degrees.  He  was  in  no 
mood  to  hurry.  Lillian  had  been  lovely  in  those  early 
days  in  which  he  had  first  called  on  her  in  North  Front 
Street,  and  he  had  fancied  himself  unspeakably  happy  at 
that  time;  but  that  was  nearly  ten  years  since,  and  he 
had  forgotten  how  it  was.  Since  then  he  had  had  no 
great  passion,  no  notable  liaison;  and  then,  all  at  cnce, 
in  the  midst  of  business  prosperity  appeared  Aileen.  Her 
young  body  and  soul,  her  passionate  illusions — how  love 
ly  they  were!  He  could  see  always,  for  all  her  daring, 
that  she  knew  so  little  of  the  hard,  brutal  world  with 
which  he  was  connected.  Her  father  had  given  her  all 
the  toys  she  wanted  without  stint ;  her  mother  and  broth 
ers  had  coddled  her,  particularly  her  mother.  Her  young 
sister  thought  she  was  adorable,  and  old  Butler  found  an 
echo  of  his  own  hardy  youth  in  her  ruddy  temperament. 
No  one  imagined  for  one  moment  that  Aileen  would  ever 
do  anything  wrong.  She  was  too  sensible,  after  all,  too 
eager  to  get  up  in  the  world.  Why  should  she,  when  her 
life  lay  open  and  happy  before  her — a  delightful  love- 

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match,  some  day  soon,  with  some  very  eligible  and  satis 
factory  lover? 

"When  you  marry,  Aileen,"  her  mother  used  to  say  to 
her,  "we'll  have  a  grand  time  here.  Sure  we'll  do  the 
house  over  then,  if  we  don't  do  it  before.  Eddie  will  have 
to  fix  it  up,  or  I'll  do  it  meself.  Never  fear." 

"Yes — well,  I'd  rather  you'd  fix  it  now,"  was  her  reply. 

Butler  himself  used  to  strike  her  jovially  on  the  shoul 
der  in  a  rough,  loving  way,  and  ask,  "Well,  have  you 
found  him  yet?"  or  "Is  he  hanging  around  the  outside 
watchin'  for  ye?" 

If  she  said  "No,"  he  would  reply:  "Well,  he  will  be, 
never  fear — worse  luck.  I'll  hate  to  see  ye  go,  girlie! 
You  can  stay  here  as  long  as  ye  want  to,  and  ye  want  to 
remember  that  you  can  always  come  back." 

Aileen  paid  very  little  attention  to  these  caressings. 
She  loved  her  father,  but  it  was  all  such  a  matter  of 
course.  She  always  had.  It  was  the  commonplace  of 
her  existence,  and  not  so  very  significant,  though  delight 
ful  enough. 

But  how  eagerly  she  yielded  herself  to  Cowperwood 
under  the  spring  trees  these  days!  She  had  no  sense  of 
that  ultimate  yielding  that  was  coming,  for  now  he  mere 
ly  caressed  and  talked  to  her.  He  was  a  little  doubtful 
about  himself.  His  growing  liberties  seemed  natural 
enough,  however,  and  in  a  sense  of  fairness  he  began  to 
talk  to  her  about  what  their  love  involved.  Would  she? 
Did  she  understand  ?  This  phase  of  it  puzzled  and  fright 
ened  her  a  little  at  first.  She  looked  at  him,  standing  be 
fore  him  one  afternoon  in  her  black  riding-habit  and  high 
silk  riding-hat  perched  so  jauntily  on  her  pretty  head;  and 
striking  her  riding-skirt  with  her  short  whip,  pondered 
doubtfully  as  she  listened.  He  was  so  fascinating.  He 
had  asked  her  whether  she  knew  what  she  was  doing? 
Whither  they  were  drifting?  If  she  loved  him  truly 
enough?  The  two  horses  were  tethered  in  a  thicket  a 
score  of  yards  away,  and  from  the  bank  of  the  tumbling 

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stream,  which  they  had  approached,  she  was  trying  to 
make  out  if  she  could  see  them.  It  was  pretense.  There 
was  no  interest  in  her  glance.  She  was  thinking  of  him 
and  the  niceness  of  his  habit,  and  the  exquisite  condition 
of  his  mount.  He  had  such  a  charming  calico  pony. 
The  leaves  were  just  far  enough  out  to  make  a  diaphanous 
lace-work  of  green.  It  was  like  looking  through  a  soft, 
netted  curtain  of  pale,  olive-hued  lace  to  look  into  the 
woods  beyond  or  behind.  The  gray  stones  were  already 
faintly  mossy  where  the  water  rippled  and  sparkled,  and 
early  birds  were  calling — robins  and  blackbirds  and 
wrens. 

"Baby  mine,"  he  said,  "do  you  understand  all  about 
it?  Do  you  know  exactly  what  you're  doing  when  you 
come  with  me  this  way?" 

"I  think  I  do." 

She  struck  her  boot  and  looked  at  the  ground,  and  then 
up  through  the  trees  at  the  blue  sky. 

"Look  at  me,  honey." 

"I  don't  want  to." 

"But  look  at  me,  sweet.  I  want  to  ask  you  some 
thing." 

"Don't  make  me,  Frank,  please.     I  can't." 

"Oh  yes,  you  can  look  at  me." 

"No." 

She  backed  away  as  he  took  her  hands,  but  came  for 
ward  again,  easily  enough. 

"Now  look  in  my  eyes." 

"I  can't." 

"See  here." 

"I  can't.  Don't  ask  me.  I'll  answer  you,  but  don't 
make  me  look  at  you." 

His  hand  stole  to  her  cheek  and  fondled  it.  He  petted 
her  shoulder,  and  she  leaned  her  head  against  him. 

"Sweet,  you're  so  beautiful,"  he  said,  finally,  "I  can't 
give  you  up.  I  know  what  I  ought  to  do.  You  know, 
too,  I  suppose;  but  I  can't.  I  must  have  you.  If  any 

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THE    FINANCIER 

exposure  should  come  of  this  for  you  or  for  me,  it 
would  be  quite  bad  for  you.  Do  you  understand?" 

"Yes." 

" I  don't  know  your  brothers  very  well;  but  from  look 
ing  at  them  I  judge  they're  pretty  determined  people. 
They  think  a  great  deal  of  you." 

"Indeed,  they  do."  Her  vanity  brightened  slightly 
at  this. 

"They  would  probably  want  to  kill  me,  and  very 
promptly,  for  just  this  much.  What  do  you  think  they 
would  want  to  do  if — well,  if  anything  should  happen, 
some  time?" 

He  waited,  watching  her  pretty  face. 

"But  nothing  need  happen.  We  needn't  go  any 
further." 

"Aileen!" 

"I  won't  look  at  you.     You  needn't  ask.     I  can't." 

"Aileen!     Do  you  mean  that?" 

"I  don't  know.     Don't  ask  me,  Frank." 

"You  know  it  can't  stop  this  way,  don't  you?  You 
know  it.  This  isn't  the  end.  Now,  if—  He  explained 
the  whole  theory  of  illicit  meetings  calmly,  dispassionate 
ly.  "You  are  perfectly  safe,  except  for  one  thing,  chance 
exposure.  It  might  just  so  happen;  and  then,  of  course, 
there  would  be  a  great  deal  to  settle  for.  Mrs.  Cowper- 
wood  would  never  give  me  a  divorce;  she  has  no  reason 
to.  If  I  should  clear  in  the  way  I  hope  to — if  I  should 
make  a  million — I  would  not  mind  knocking  off  now.  I 
don't  expect  to  work  all  my  days.  I  have  always  planned 
to  knock  off  at  thirty-five.  I'll  have  enough  by  that 
time.  Then  I  want  to  travel.  It  will  only  be  a  few  more 
years  now.  If  you  were  free — if  your  father  and  mother 
were  dead" — curiously  she  did  not  wince  at  this  practical 
reference — "it  would  be  a  different  matter.  We  could 
leave,  anyhow,  I  suppose." 

He  paused.  She  still  gazed  thoughtfully  at  the  water 
below,  her  mind  running  out  to  a  yacht  on  the  sea  with 

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THE    FINANCIER 

him,  a  palace  somewhere — just  they  two.  Her  eyes,  half 
closed,  saw  this  happy  world;  and  her  ears,  listening,  were 
fascinated. 

"Hanged  if  I  see  the  way  out  of  this,  exactly.  But  I 
love  you!"  He  caught  her  to  him.  "I  love  you — love 
you!" 

"Oh  yes,"  she  replied;  "I  want  you  to.  I'm  not 
afraid." 

"I've  taken  a  house  in  North  Tenth  Street,"  he  said, 
finally,  as  they  walked  out  to  the  horses.  "It  isn't  fur 
nished  yet;  but  it  will  be,  soon.  I  have  a  woman  who 
will  be  in  charge." 

"Who  is  she?" 

"An  interesting  widow  of  nearly  fifty.  Very  intel 
ligent — she  is  attractive,  and  knows  a  good  deal  of  life. 
I  found  her  through  an  advertisement.  You  might  call 
on  her  some  afternoon  when  things  are  arranged,  and  look 
the  place  over.  You  needn't  meet  her  except  in  a  casual 
way.  Will  you?" 

She  rode  on,  thinking,  making  no  reply.  He  was  so 
direct  and  practical  in  his  calculations. 

"Will  you?  It  will  be  all  right.  You  might  know  her. 
She  isn't  objectionable  in  any  way.  Will  you?" 

"Let  me  know  when  it  is  ready,"  was  all  she  said, 
finally. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

THE  vagaries  of  passion !  What  subtleties,  what  risk, 
what  sacrifices  are  not  laid  wilfully  upon  its  altar? 
In  a  little  while  this  more  than  average  residence  to 
which  Cowperwood  had  referred  was  prepared  solely  to 
effect  a  satisfactory  method  of  concealment.  Aileen  had 
still  to  be  allured.  The  house  was  governed  by  a  seem 
ingly  recently  bereaved  widow,  and  it  was  possible  for 
Aileen  to  call  without  seeming  strangely  out  of  place. 
It  was  a  little  while  after  this  before  this  denouement 
was  eventually  brought  about.  Yet  it  was  not  more 
difficult  to  persuade  Aileen,  governed  as  she  was  by  her 
wild  and  unreasoning  affection  and  passion,  than  it  would 
have  been  to  lead  an  innocent  maiden  to  the  altar.  In  a 
way,  there  was  a  saving  element  of  love,  for  truly,  above 
all  others,  she  wanted  this  man.  She  had  no  thought 
or  feeling  toward  any  other.  All  her  mind  ran  toward 
visions  of  the  future,  when,  somehow,  she  and  he  might  be 
together  alone.  Mrs.  Cowperwood  might  die,  or  he  might 
run  away  with  her  at  thirty-five  when  he  had  a  million. 
Some  adjustment  would  be  made,  somehow.  Nature  had 
given  her  this  man.  She  relied  on  him  implicitly.  When 
he  told  her  that  he  would  take  care  of  her  so  that  nothing 
evil  should  befall,  she  believed  him  fully.  She  was  not 
exactly  bad  at  heart,  as  one  may  readily  see.  Such  sins 
as  these  are  the  commonplaces  of  the  confessional. 

It  is  a  curious  fact  that,  by  some  subtlety  of  logic  in 
the  Christian  world,  it  has  come  to  be  believed  that  there 
can  be  no  love  outside  of  the  conventional  process  of 
courtship  and  marriage.  One  life,  one  love,  is  the  Chris 
tian  idea ;  and  into  this  sluice,  channel,  or  mold  it  has  been 

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THE    FINANCIER 

endeavoring  to  compress  the  whole  world.  Pagan  thought 
held  no  such  belief.  A  writing  of  divorce  for  trivial 
causes  was  the  theory  of  the  elders;  and  in  the  primeval 
world  nature  apparently  held  no  scheme  for  the  unity  of 
two  beyond  the  temporary  care  of  the  young.  That  the 
modern  home  is  the  most  beautiful  of  schemes,  when 
based  upon  mutual  sympathy  and  understanding  be 
tween  two,  need  not  be  questioned.  And  yet  this  fact 
should  not  necessarily  carry  with  it  a  condemnation  of 
all  love  not  so  fortunate  as  to  find  so  happy  a  denoue 
ment.  Life  cannot  be  put  in  any  mold,  and  the  attempt 
might  as  well  be  abandoned  at  once.  Those  so  fortunate 
as  to  find  harmonious  companionship  for  life  should  con 
gratulate  themselves  and  strive  to  be  worthy  of  it.  Those 
not  so  blessed,  though  they  be  written  down  as  pariahs, 
have  yet  some  justification.  And,  besides,  whether  we 
will  or  no,  theory  or  no  theory,  the  large  basic  facts  of 
chemistry  and  physics  remain.  Like  is  drawn  to  like. 
Changes  in  temperament  bring  changes  in  relationship. 
Dogma  may  bind  some  minds ;  fear,  others.  But  there  are 
always  those  in  whom  the  chemistry  and  physics  of  life 
are  large,  and  in  whom  neither  dogma  nor  fear  is  operative. 
Society  lifts  its  hands  in  horror;  but  from  age  to  age  the 
Helens,  the  Messalinas,  the  Du  Barrys,  the  Pompadours, 
the  Maintenons,  and  the  Nell  Gwyns  flourish  and  point  a 
subtler  basis  of  relationship  than  we  have  yet  been  able 
to  square  with  our  lives. 

When  all  was  arranged,  the  happy  event  took  place, 
much  as  a  marriage  might  have.  There  was  infinite  de 
light,  and  these  two  felt  unutterably  bound  to  each  other. 
Cowperwood,  once  he  came  to  understand  her,  fancied 
that  he  had  found  the  one  person  with  whom  he  could 
live  happily  the  rest  of  his  life.  She  was  so  young,  so 
confident,  so  hopeful,  so  undismayed.  All  these  months 
since  they  had  first  begun  to  reach  out  to  each  other 
Cowperwood  had  been  hourly  contrasting  her  with  his 
wife.  He  had  not  been  vastly  dissatisfied  before.  As  a 

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THE    FINANCIER 

matter  of  fact,  his  dissatisfaction,  though  it  may  be  said 
to  have  been  faintly  growing,  and  was  surely  tending  to 
become  real  enough  in  its  substance,  in  so  far  as  it  had 
gone,  was  decidedly  nebulous.  His  children  were  pleasing 
to  him;  his  home  beautiful.  Mrs.  Cowperwood,  phleg 
matic  and  now  thin,  was  still  not  homely.  All  these  years 
he  had  found  her  satisfactory  enough ;  but  now,  as  his  pas 
sion  began  to  grow  for  Aileen,  his  dissatisfaction  with  his 
wife  began  to  increase.  He  was  not  one  who  was  in 
clined  to  be  querulous,  and  yet  on  occasion  he  could  be. 
He  began  to  ask  questions  concerning  her  appearance — • 
those  irritating  little  whys  which  are  so  trivial  and  yet 
so  exasperating  and  discouraging  to  a  woman.  Why 
didn't  she  get  a  mauve  hat  nearer  the  shade  of  her  dress  ? 
Why  didn't  she  go  out  more?  Exercise  would  do  her 
good.  Why  didn't  she  do  this,  and  why  didn't  she  do 
that?  He  scarcely  noticed  that  he  was  doing  this;  but 
she  did,  and  she  felt  the  undertone — the  real  significance 
— and  took  umbrage. 

' '  Oh,  why — why  ?"  she  retorted,  one  day,  curtly.  ' '  Why 
do  you  ask  so  many  questions?  You  don't  care  so  much 
for  me  any  more;  that's  why.  I  can  tell." 

He  leaned  back  startled  by  the  thrust.  It  was  not 
based  on  any  evidence  of  anything  save  his  recent  re 
marks;  but  he  was  not  absolutely  sure.  He  was  just 
the  least  bit  sorry  that  he  had  irritated  her,  and  he 
said  so. 

"Oh,  it's  all  right,"  she  replied.  "I  don't  care.  But 
I  notice  that  you  don't  pay  as  much  attention  to  me  as 
you  used  to.  It's  your  business  now,  first,  last,  and  all 
the  time.  You  can't  get  your  mind  off  of  that." 

He  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief.  She  didn't  suspect,  then. 
Very  well,  everything  was  lovely. 

But  after  a  little  time,  as  he  grew  more  and  more  in 
sympathy  with  Aileen,  he  was  not  so  disturbed  as  to 
whether  his  wife  might  suspect  or  not.  He  began  to 
think  on  occasion,  as  his  mind  followed  the  various  rami- 

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THE    FINANCIER 

fications  of  the  situation,  that  it  would  be  better  if  she 
did.  She  was  really  not  of  the  contentious,  fighting  sort. 
He  fancied  she  would  make  no  great  resistance  to  some 
ultimate  rearrangement.  She  might  even  divorce  him. 
But  the  rub  was  not  there  nearly  so  much  as  it  was  in 
connection  with  the  Butler  family.  His  relations  with 
Edward  Malia  Butler  had  become  very  intimate — too 
much  so.  The  latter  knew  and  thought  of  him  only  as  a 
very  practical  business  man.  He  advised  with  him  con 
stantly  in  regard  to  the  handling  of  his  securities,  which 
were  numerous.  'Mr.  Butler  had  stocks  in  such  things  as 
the  Pennsylvania  Coal  Company,  the  Delaware  and  Hud 
son  Canal,  the  Morris  and  Essex  Canal,  the  Reading  Rail 
road,  and  things  of  that  kind.  Some  of  these  stocks  were 
active,  others  inactive.  As  the  old  gentleman's  mind 
broadened  to  the  significance  of  the  local  street-railway 
problem  in  Philadelphia,  he  decided  to  close  out  .his 
other  securities  at  such  advantageous  terms  as  he  could, 
and  reinvest  the  money  in  local  lines.  He  knew  that 
Mollenhauer  and  Simpson  were  doing  this,  and  they  were 
excellent  judges  of  the  significance  of  local  affairs.  Like 
Cowperwood,  he  had  the  idea  that  if  he  controlled  suffi 
cient  of  the  local  situation  in  this  field,  he  could  at  last 
effect  a  joint  relationship  with  Mollenhauer  and  Simpson. 
Political  legislation,  advantageous  to  the  combined  lines, 
could  then  be  so  easily  secured.  Franchises  and  necessary 
extensions  to  existing  franchises  could  be  added.  This 
conversion  of  his  outstanding  stocks  in  other  fields,  and 
the  picking  up  of  odd  lots  in  the  local  street-railway,  was 
the  business  of  Cowperwood.  Butler,  through  his  sons, 
Owen  and  Callum,  was  busy  planning  a  new  line  and  ob 
taining  a  franchise,  sacrificing,  of  course,  great  blocks  of 
stock  and  actual  cash  to  others,  in  order  to  obtain  suffi 
cient  influence  to  have  the  necessary  legislation  passed. 
It  was  no  easy  matter,  seeing  that  others  knew  what  the 
general  advantages  of  the  situation  were.  Cowperwood, 
for  instance,  seeing  the  great  source  of  profit  here, 

263 


THE    FINANCIER 

was  not  as  eager  to  serve  Mr.  Butler,  or  any  one  else,  as 
he  was  to  serve  himself  if  he  could. 

The  scheme  which  Mr.  George  W.  Stener  had  brought 
forward,  representing  actually  in  the  background  Mr. 
Strobik,  Mr.  Wycroft,  Mr.  Harmon,  was  a  way  in.  This 
was  to  loan  him  money  out  of  the  city  treasury  at  two  per 
cent.,  or,  if  he  would  waive  all  commissions,  for  nothing 
(an  agent  for  self-protective  purposes  was  absolutely 
necessary),  and  with  it  take  over  the  North  Pennsylvania 
Company's  line  on  Front  Street,  which,  because  of  the 
shortness  of  its  length,  one  mile  and  a  half,  and  the 
brevity  of  the  duration  of  its  franchise,  was  neither  doing 
very  well  nor  being  rated  very  high.  Cowperwood  in 
return  for  his  manipulative  skill  was  to  have  a  fair  pro 
portion  of  the  stock — twenty  per  cent.  Mr.  Strobik  and 
Mr.  Wycroft  knew  the  parties  from  whom  the  bulk  of 
the  stock  could  be  secured  if  engineered  properly.  Their 
plan  was  then,  with  this  borrowed  treasury  money,  to 
extend  the  line,  extend  its  franchise,  and  then,  by  issuing 
a  great  block  of  stock  and  hypothecating  it  with  a  favored 
bank,  return  the  principal  to  the  city  treasury  and  pocket 
their  profits  from  the  line  as  it  earned  them.  There  was 
no  trouble  in  this,  in  so  far  as  Cowperwood  was  concerned, 
except  that  it  divided  the  stock  very  badly  among  these 
various  individuals,  and  left  him  but  a  comparatively 
small  share — a  fifth — for  his  thought  and  pains. 

Those  who  have  been  drawing  preliminary  conclusions 
as  to  Mr.  Cowperwood's  financial  honesty  are,  perhaps, 
asking  themselves  how  he  viewed  these  rather  peculiar 
relationships.  The  answer  is  that  Mr.  Cowperwood  was 
an  opportunist.  At  this  time  his  financial  morality  was 
special  and  local  in  its  character.  He  did  not  think  it 
was  wise  for  any  one  to  steal  anything  from  anybody 
where  the  act  of  taking  or  profiting  was  directly  and 
plainly  considered  stealing.  That  was  immoral.  There 
were  so  many  situations  wherein  what  one  might  do  in 
the  way  of  taking  or  profiting  was  open  to  discussion  and 

264 


THE    FI  NANCI  ER 

doubt.  Morality  varies  with  climates  and  traditions. 
Here  in  Philadelphia  the  tradition  was  (politically— 
mind  you — not  generally)  that  the  city  treasurer  might 
use  the  money  of  the  city  without  interest  so  long  as  he 
returned  the  principal  intact.  The  city  treasury  and  the 
city  treasurer  were  like  a  honey-laden  hive  and  a  queen 
bee  around  which  the  politicians  swarmed  in  the  hope 
of  profit.  The  one  disagreeable  thing  in  connection  with 
this  transaction  with  Stener  was  that  neither  Butler, 
Mollenhauer,  nor  Simpson,  who  were  the  actual  superiors 
of  Stener  and  Strobik,  knew  anything  about  it.  Stener 
and  those  behind  him  were,  through  him,  acting  for  them 
selves.  If  the  larger  powers  heard  of  this  it  might  alienate 
them — Butler,  for  instance;  and  Cowperwood  was  close 
to  him.  He  had  to  think  of  this.  Still,  if  he  refused  to 
make  any  advantageous  deals  with  Mr.  George  W.  Stener, 
or  any  other  man  influential  in  local  affairs,  he  was 
cutting  off  his  nose  to  spite  his  face,  for  other  bankers 
and  brokers  would,  and  gladly.  And  besides  it  was  not 
at  all  certain  that  Butler,  Mollenhauer,  and  Simpson 
would  ever  hear.  What  business  was  it  of  his  where  the 
money  came  from?  Why  should  he  concern  himself 
with  the  traditions  of  the  city — whether  they  were  honest 
or  not?  He  knew  this  scheme  of  the  city  politicians  was 
not  honest.  He  knew  the  public  at  large  were  being 
hoodwinked  and  outdone.  But  was  he  responsible  for 
the  public?  Had  not  the  people,  the  rank  and  file, 
always  been  fools  more  or  less?  Could  you  do  anything 
but  manage  their  affairs  fairly  well  for  them  and  take  a 
large  profit  for  yourself?  Capital,  he  saw,  was  very 
chary.  It  wanted  large  security.  And  men  in  any  walk 
of  life — wise  men — would  never  work  for  nothing.  They 
wanted  great  gains.  If  you  wanted  to  see  improvements 
of  any  kind  made,  you  would  have  to  expect  a  large 
spilling-over  of  profits — this  was  so  in  connection  with 
anything  which  was  being  done  in  Philadelphia,  hence — 
There  was  another  line,  however,  which  he  rode  on 

265 


THE    FINANCIER 

occasionally,  the  Seventeenth  and  Nineteenth  Street  line, 
which  he  felt  was  a  much  more  interesting  thing  for  him 
to  think  about,  if  he  could  raise  the  money.  It  had 
been  originally  capitalized  for  five  hundred  thousand  dol 
lars;  but  there  had  been  a  series  of  bonds  to  the  value  of 
two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars  additional  added 
for  improvements,  and  the  company  was  finding  great 
difficulties  in  meeting  the  interest.  The  bulk  of  the  stock 
was  scattered  about  among  small  investors,  and  it  would 
require  all  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars  to 
collect  it  and  have  himself  elected  president  or  chairman 
of  the  board  of  directors.  Once  in,  however,  he  could 
vote  this  stock  as  he  pleased,  hypothecating  it  meanwhile 
at  his  father's  bank  for  as  much  as  he  could  get,  and  issu 
ing  more  stocks  with  which  to  bribe  legislators  in  the 
matter  of  extending  the  line,  and  in  taking  up  other  op 
portunities  to  either  add  to  it  by  purchase  or  supplement 
it  by  working  agreements.  The  word  "bribe"  is  used 
here  in  this  matter-of-fact  American  way,  because  bribery 
was  what  was  in  every  one's  mind  in  connection  with  the 
State  legislature.  Terrence  Relihan — a  small,  dark-faced 
Irishman,  a  dandy  in  dress  and  manners — who  repre 
sented  the  financial  interest  at  Harrisburg,  had  told  him 
that  nothing  could  be  done  at  the  capital  without  money, 
or  its  equivalent,  negotiable  securities.  Each  significant 
legislator,  if  he  yielded  his  vote  or  his  influence,  must  be 
looked  after.  Cowperwood  had  met  Relihan  through 
Frederick  Van  Nostrand,  the  State  treasurer,  at  the  time 
of  the  bond  issue,  and  had  seen  him  often  since.  He  was 
frequently  in  town  talking  to  Butler,  Simpson,  Mollen- 
hauer,  and  the  financial  stars  of  Third  Street.  If  he, 
Cowperwood,  had  any  scheme  which  he  wanted  handled 
at  any  time,  Relihan  had  intimated  to  him  that  he  would 
be  glad  to  talk  with  him.  He  had  influence,  because  of 
those  he  represented,  and  could  crack  the  whip  at  times; 
but  it  required  money.  Cowperwood  had  figured  on 
this  Seventeenth  and  Nineteenth  Street  line  scheme 

266 


THE    FI  NANCI  ER 

more  than  once,  but  he  had  never  felt  quite  sure  that 
he  was  willing  to  undertake  it.  His  obligations  in  other 
directions  were  so  large.  But  the  lure  was  there,  and  he 
pondered  and  pondered. 

Stener's  scheme  of  loaning  him  money  wherewith  to 
manipulate  the  North  Pennsylvania  line  deal  put  an 
other  idea  in  his  mind.  Although  he  was  constantly 
watching  the  certificates  of  loan  issue,  buying  large  quanti 
ties  when  the  market  was  falling  to  protect  it  and  selling 
heavily  though  cautiously  when  he  saw  it  rising,  he  had 
to  have  a  great  deal  of  free  money  to  permit  him  to  do 
it.  He  was  constantly  fearful  of  some  break  in  the 
market  which  would  affect  the  value  of  all  his  securities 
and  result  in  the  calling  of  his  loans.  There  was  no 
storm  in  sight.  He  did  not  see  that  anything  could  hap 
pen  in  reason;  but  he  did  not  want  to  spread  himself 
out  too  thin.  If  he  took  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
dollars  and  went  after  this  Seventeenth  and  Nineteenth 
Street  matter  it  would  mean  that  he  was  spread  out  very 
thin.  And  if  anything  should  happen — 

"Frank,"  said  Stener,  strolling  into  his  office  one 
afternoon  after  four  o'clock  when  the  main  rush  of  the 
day's  work  was  over — the  relationship  between  Cow- 
perwood  and  Stener  had  long  since  reached  the  ''Frank" 
and  "George "  period — " Strobik  thinks  he  has  that  North 
Pennsylvania  deal  arranged  so  that  we  can  take  it  up 
if  we  want  to.  The  principal  stockholder,  we  find,  is 
a  man  by  the  name  of  Colton — not  Ike  Colton,  but  Fer 
dinand.  How's  that  for  a  name?"  Mr.  Stener  beamed 
fatly  and  genially. 

Things  had  changed  considerably  for  George  W. 
Stener  since  the  days  when  he  had  been  fortuitously  and 
almost  indifferently  made  city  treasurer.  He  was  such 
an  easy-going  soul  in  the  hands  of  others — such  a  com 
fortable  tool  to  work  with — that  he  had  been  allowed  to 
prosper.  He  was  not  so  self-sufficient  that  he  could  not 
take  advice  from  a  number  of  sources,  and  for  some  in- 

267 


THE    FINANCIER 

describable  reason  he  evoked  a  kind  of  sympathy  and 
friendly  interest  in  those  who  were  drawn  to  him  at  all. 
They  liked  to  "jolly"  him,  as  an  expression  which  went 
into  use  later  had  it;  and,  while  they  would  not  have 
known  that  he  existed  if  he  had  not  been  made  city 
treasurer,  since  he  was  so,  it  made  all  the  difference  in 
the  world.  His  method  of  dressing  had  so  much  im 
proved  since  he  had  been  inducted  into  office,  and  his 
manner  expressed  so  much  more  good  feeling,  confidence, 
aplomb,  that  he  would  not  have  recognized  himself  if 
he  had  been  permitted  to  see  himself  as  had  those 
who  had  known  him  before.  An  old,  nervous  shift 
ing  of  the  eyes  had  almost  ceased,  and  a  feeling  of 
restfulness,  which  had  previously  been  restlessness,  and 
had  sprung  from  a  sense  of  necessity,  had  taken  its 
place.  His  large  feet  were  incased  in  good,  square- 
toed,  soft-leather  shoes;  his  stocky  chest  and  fat  legs 
were  made  somewhat  agreeable  to  the  eye  by  a  well- 
cut  suit  of  brownish  -  gray  cloth ;  and  his  neck  was 
now  surrounded  by  a  low,  wing-point  white  collar  and 
brown-silk  tie — the  collar  low  enough  not  to  irritate  his 
stout  neck,  which  somehow  spoke  of  peace  and  comfort 
and  prosperity.  His  ample  chest,  which  spread  out  a 
little  lower  in  a  round  and  constantly  enlarging  stomach, 
was  ornamented  by  a  heavy-link  gold  chain,  and  his  white 
cuffs  had  large  gold  cuff-buttons  set  with  rubies  of  a  very 
notable  size.  He  was  rosy  and  decidedly  well  fed.  In 
fact,  he  was  doing  very  well  indeed. 

His  family  had  been  moved  from  the  shabby  two- 
story  frame  house  in  South  Ninth  Street — very  far  south 
— which  they  had  formerly  occupied,  to  a  very  comfort 
able  brick  one  three  stories  in  height,  and  three  times  as 
large,  on  Spring  Garden  Street.  His  wife  had  a  few 
acquaintances — the  wives  of  other  politicians.  His  chil 
dren  were  attending  the  high  school,  a  thing  he  had  hardly 
hoped  for  in  earlier  days.  He  was  now  the  owner  of  four 
teen  or  fifteen  pieces  of  cheap  real  estate  in  different  por- 

268 


THE    FINANCIER 

tions  of  the  city,  which  might  eventually  become  very 
valuable,  and  he  was  a  silent  partner  in  the  South  Phila 
delphia  Foundry  Company  and  the  American  Beef  and 
Pork  Company,  two  corporations  on  paper,  whose  principal 
business  was  subletting  contracts  secured  from  the  city 
to  the  humble  butchers  and  foundrymen  who  would 
carry  out  orders  as  given  and  not  talk  too  much  or  ask 
questions.  Needless  to  say,  Messrs.  Strobik,  Wycroft, 
and  Harmon  were  the  leaders  in  these  things.  Needless  to 
say,  also,  that  George  W.  Stener  had  but  small  advice  to 
offer  outside  of  furnishing  the  original  capital.  He  was 
doing  very  wrell,  though,  and  Strobik  and  Harmon  and 
Wycroft  liked  him.  So  did  Cowperwood,  after  a  fashion. 
He  was  a  little  sorry  for  him. 

"Well,  that  is  an  odd  name,"  said  Cowperwood,  blandly. 
"So  he  has  it?  I  never  thought  that  road  would  pay, 
as  it  was  laid  out.  It's  too  short.  It  ought  to  run  about 
three  miles  farther  out  into  the  Kensington  section." 

"Yes,  I  think  you're  right,"  said  Stener,  dully. 

"Did  Strobik  say  what  Colton  wants  for  his  shares?" 

"Sixty-eight,  I  think." 

"The  current  market  rate.  He  doesn't  want  much, 
does  he?  Well,  George,  at  that  rate  it  will  take  about" — 
he  calculated  quickly  on  the  basis  of  the  number  of  shares 
Colton  was  holding — "one  hundred  and  twenty  thousand 
to  get  him  out  alone.  That  isn't  all.  There's  Judge 
Kitchen  and  Joseph  Zimmerman  and  Senator  Donovan" 
— he  was  referring  to  the  State  senator  of  that  name. 
"You'll  be  paying  a  pretty  fair  price  for  that  stuff  when 
you  get  it.  It  will  cost  considerable  more  to  extend  the 
line.  It's  too  much,  I  think." 

Cowperwood  was  thinking  how  easy  it  would  be  to 
combine  this  line  with  his  dreamed-of  Seventeenth  and 
Nineteenth  Street  line,  if  he  could  get  that.  If  he  had 
that  he  could  say  to  Stener  and  his  friends,  once  they  had 
this  line,  "Here  now,  why  not  let  me  run  this  line,  of 
which  I  am  part  owner  with  you,  in  connection  with  my 

269 


THE    FINANCIER 

own?"  After  that  so  many  things  could  be  done.  Book 
keeping  is  such  a  subtle  thing.  Suddenly  an  idea  occurred 
to  him. 

"Say,  George,"  he  said,  "why  do  you  work  all  your 
schemes  through  Strobik  and  Harmon  and  Wycroft? 
Couldn't  you  manage  some  of  these  things  alone  or  with 
just  one  person,  instead  of  three  or  four?  It  seems  to 
me  that  plan  would  be  much  more  profitable  to  you." 

"It  would,  it  would!"  exclaimed  Stener,  his  round  eyes 
fixed  on  Cowperwood  in  a  rather  helpless,  appealing  way. 
"I've  thought  of  that.  But  these  fellows  have  had  more 
experience  in  these  matters  than  I  have  had,  Frank. 
They've  been  longer  at  the  game.  I  don't  know  as  much 
about  these  things  as  they  do." 

Cowperwood  smiled  in  his  soul,  though  his  face  re 
mained  passive. 

"Take  this  railroad  deal  you're  in  on,  George;  you  and 
I  could  manipulate  this  just  as  well  and  better  than  it 
can  be  done  with  Wycroft,  Strobik,  and  Harmon  in  on  it. 
They're  not  adding  anything  to  the  wisdom  of  the  situa 
tion.  They're  not  putting  up  any  money.  You're  doing 
that.  All  they're  doing  is  agreeing  to  see  it  through  the 
legislature  and  the  council,  and  as  far  as  the  legislature 
is  concerned,  they  can't  do  any  more  with  that  than  any 
one  else  could — than  I  could,  for  instance.  It  is  a  ques 
tion  of  arranging  things  with  Relihan  and  putting  up  a 
certain  amount  of  money  for  him  to  work  with.  Here  in 
town  there  are  other  people  who  can  reach  the  council 
just  as  well  as  Strobik.  I'm  not  asking  you  to  change 
your  plans  on  this  North  Pennsylvania  deal.  You 
couldn't  do  that  very  well.  But  there  are  other  things. 
In  the  future  why  not  let's  see  if  you  and  I  can't  work 
some  of  them  together?  You'll  be  much  better  off,  and 
so  will  I.  We've  done  pretty  well  on  the  city-loan  prop 
osition  so  far." 

The  truth  was,  they  had  done  exceedingly  well.  Aside 
from  what  the  higher  powers  had  made,  Mr.  Stener's 

270 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

new  house,  his  lots,  his  bank-account,  his  good  clothes, 
and  his  changed  and  comfortable  sense  of  life  were  largely 
due  to  Cowperwood's  successful  manipulation  of  these 
city-loan  certificates.  Already  there  had  been  four 
issues  of  two  hundred  thousand  dollars  each.  Cowper- 
wood  had  bought  and  sold  nearly  three  million  dollars' 
worth  of  these  certificates,  acting  one  time  as  a  "bull" 
and  another  as  a  "bear."  Mr.  Stener  was  now  worth 
all  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars. 

"There's  a  line  that  I  know  of  here  in  the  city  which 
could  be  made  into  a  splendidly  paying  property,"  said 
Cowperwood,  meditatively,  after  a  while,  "if  the  right 
things  could  be  done  with  it.  Just  like  this  North 
Pennsylvania  line,  it  isn't  long  enough.  The  territory 
it  serves  isn't  big  enough.  It  ought  to  be  extended;  and 
if  you  and  I  could  get  it,  it  might  eventually  be  worked 
with  this  North  Pennsylvania  Company  as  one  company. 
That  would  save  officers  and  offices  and  a  lot  of  things. 
There  is  always  money  to  be  made  out  of  a  larger  pur 
chasing  power." 

'He  paused  and  looked  out  the  window  of  his  handsome 
little  hardwood  office,  speculating  upon  the  future.  The 
window  gave  nowhere  save  into  a  back  yard  behind  an 
other  office  building  which  had  formerly  been  a  residence. 
Some  grass  grew  feebly  there.  The  red  wall  and  old- 
fashioned  brick  fence  which  divided  it  from  the  next 
lot  reminded  him  somehow  of  his  old  home  in  New 
Market  Street,  where  his  Uncle  Seneca  used  to  come  as 
a  Cuban  trader  followed  by  a  black  Portuguese  servitor. 
He  could  see  him  now  as  he  sat  here  looking  at  the  yard. 

"Well,"  asked  Stener,  ambitiously,  taking  the  bait, 
"why  don't  we  get  hold  of  that — you  and  me?  I  suppose 
I  could  fix  it  so  far  as  the  money  is  concerned.  How 
much  would  it  take?" 

Cowperwood  smiled  inwardly  again. 

"  I  don't  know  exactly,"  he  said,  after  a  time.  "  I  want 
to  look  into  it  more  carefully.  The  one  trouble  is  that 

271 


THE    FINANCIER 

I'm  carrying  a  good  deal  of  the  city's  money  as  it  is. 
You  see,  I  have  that  two  hundred  thousand  dollars  against 
your  city-loan  deals.  And  this  new  scheme  will  take  two 
or  three  hundred  thousand  more.  If  that  were  out  of  the 
way—" 

He  was  thinking  of  one  of  those  inexplicable  stock 
panics — those  strange  American  depressions  which  have 
so  much  to  do  with  the  temperament  of  the  people,  and 
so  little  to  do  with  the  basic  conditions  of  the  country. 
"If  this  North  Pennsylvania  deal  were  through  and  done 
with—" 

He  rubbed  his  chin  and  pulled  at  his  handsome  silky 
mustache. 

"Don't  ask  me  any  more  about  it,  George,"  he  said, 
finally,  as  he  saw  that  the  latter  was  beginning  to  think 
as  to  which  line  it  might  be.  "  Don't  say  anything  at  all 
about  it.  I  want  to  get  my  facts  exactly  right,  and  then 
I'll  talk  to  you.  I  think  you  and  I  can  do  this  thing  a 
little  later,  when  we  get  the  North  Pennsylvania  scheme 
under  way.  I'm  so  rushed  just  now  I'm  not  sure  that  I 
want  to  undertake  it  at  once;  but  you  keep  quiet  and 
we'll  see."  He  turned  toward  his  desk,  and  Stener  got 
up. 

"I'll  make  any  sized  deposit  with  you  that  you  wish, 
the  moment  you  think  you're  ready  to  act.  Just  notify 
Stires,  and  he'll  send  you  a  check.  Strobik  thought  we 
ought  to  act  pretty  soon." 

Stener  was  speaking  of  city  money  to  be  deposited  with 
Cowperwood  acting  as  a  banker,  in  order  to  finance  the 
proposed  North  Pennsylvania  project,  for  which  he  was 
broker '  and  prospective  part  owner. 

"I'll  tend  to  it,  George,"  replied  Cowperwood,  con 
fidently.  "It  will  come  out  all  right.  Leave  it  to  me." 

Stener  kicked  his  stout  legs  to  straighten  his  trousers, 
and  extended  his  hand.  He  strolled  out  in  the  street 
thinking  of  Cowperwood  and  this  new  scheme.  If  he 
could  get  in  with  Cowperwood  right  he  would  surely  be 

272 


THE    FINANCIER 

a  rich  man,  for  Cowperwood  was  so  successful  and  so 
cautious.  His  new  house,  this  beautiful  banking  office, 
his  growing  fame,  and  his  subtle  connections  with  Butler 
and  others  put  Stener  in  considerable  awe  of  him.  An 
other  line!  They  would  control  it  and  the  North  Penn 
sylvania!  Why,  if  this  went  on,  he  might  become  a 
magnate — he  really  might — he,  George  W.  Stener,  once  a 
cheap  real-estate  and  insurance  agent.  He  strolled  up 
the  street  thinking,  with  no  more  idea  of  the  importance 
of  the  civic  duties  and  the  nature  of  the  social  ethics 
against  which  he  was  offending  than  if  they  had  never 
existed. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

THE  connections  which  Cowperwood  made  during 
the  ensuing  year  and  a  half  with  Stener,  Strobik, 
Butler,  State  Treasurer  Van  Nostrand,  State  Senator 
Relihan,  representative  of  "the  interests,"  so-called,  at 
Harrisburg,  ex-City  Treasurer  Julian  Bode,  and  various 
banks  and  concerns  which  were  friendly  to  these  gentle 
men  and  others  of  their  ilk  were  numerous  and  confi 
dential.  For  Stener,  Strobik,  Wycroft,  Harmon,  and 
himself  he  executed  the  North  Pennsylvania  deal,  by 
which  he  became  a  holder  of  a  fifth  of  the  controlling 
stock  which  they  knew  of,  and  as  much  more  of  smaller 
scattered  holdings  as  he  could  possibly  secure.  He  had 
advised  them  that  all  they  needed  to  buy  was  a  bare 
majority,  if  so  much,  of  the  stock,  which  they  could  hold 
jointly;  for,  as  he  informed  them  in  a  friendly  way,  the 
rank  and  file  of  stockholders  never  vote.  Their  interests 
are  as  a  rule  too  small,  their  other  duties  too  large.  They 
haven't  the  time.  Privately,  he  believed  that  a  man 
with  a  sixth  interest  in  a  very  large  corporation,  where 
the  stock  was  widely  scattered,  and  where  the  individual 
holdings  were  small,  could,  if  he  chose,  and  had  the  manip 
ulative  and  executive  faculties,  control  the  entire  situa 
tion;  but  he  did  not  say  so.  He  thought  it  would  be  a 
very  easy  matter  for  him  to  control  this  North  Pennsyl 
vania  line  once  these  stock  transactions  were  settled,  for 
he  knew  more  about  it  than  any  one  else.  He  was  draw 
ing  up  plans  for  the  issue  of  a  new  block  of  stock,  to  pay 
for  the  extension  of  the  line,  once  this  sought  control  had 
been  secured  and  the  legislature  had  granted  a  franchise. 
He  wanted  Stener  to  lay  down  money  for  the  purchase 

274 


THE    FINANCIER 

and  improvement  of  a  subsidiary  line,  which  this  North 
Pennsylvania  line  would  eventually  have  to  have ;  and  he 
wanted  himself  and  Stener  to  control  it  privately,  he 
carrying  the  largest  holding,  of  course.  This  eventually 
would  give  him  personally  absolute  control  of  the  whole 
road,  and  the  others  would  have  to  wait  on  him.  He  and 
Stener  went  in  together  on  the  purchase  of  the  Seven 
teenth  and  Nineteenth  Street  line  and  in  the  gambling 
in  stocks  which  ensued  as  an  incident.  State  Treasurer 
Van  Nostrand,  State  Senator  Relihan,  ex-Treasurer  Bode, 
and  others  deposited  large  sums  of  money  with  him  to 
carry  these  stocks  on  margin  also.  By  the  summer  of 
1871,  when  Cowperwood  was  nearly  thirty-four  years  of 
age,  he  had  a  banking  business  estimated  at  nearly  two 
million  dollars,  personal  holdings  aggregating  nearly  half 
a  million,  and  prospects  which  looked  forward  along  a 
straight  line  to  wealth  which  might  rival  that  of  any 
American  if  he  continued.  The  city,  through  its  treasurer 
— still  Mr.  Stener — was  a  depositor  with  him  to  the  extent 
of  nearly  five  hundred  thousand  dollars.  The  State, 
through  its  State  treasurer,  Mr.  Van  Nostrand,  carried 
two  hundred  thousand  dollars  on  his  books.  Mr.  Bode 
was  speculating  in  street-railway  stocks  to  the  extent  of 
fifty  thousand  dollars,  Mr.  Relihan  to  the  same  amount. 
A  small  army  of  politicians  and  political  hangers-on  were 
on  his  books  for  various  sums.  For  Edward  Malia  Butler 
he  occasionally  carried  as  high  as  one  hundred  thousand 
dollars  in  margins,  and  his  own  loans  at  the  banks,  varying 
from  day  to  day  on  variously  hypothecated  securities, 
were  as  high  as  seven  and  eight  hundred  thousand  dol 
lars.  -  He  had  surrounded  and  entangled  himself  in  a 
splendid,  glittering  network  of  connections,  like  a  spider 
in  a  spangled  net,  every  thread  of  which  he  knew,  had 
laid,  had  tested;  and  he  was  watching  all  the  details. 

Nothing  in  the  form  of  a  collapse  or  failure  could  rea 
sonably  have  come  to  Cowperwood  at  any  time,  barring 
some  unforeseen,  incalculable  calamity,  because,  in  spite 

275 


THE    FINANCIER 

of  the  far-reaching  nature  of  his  ambitions,  he  was  not 
spreading  himself  out  so  thin  but  that  he  was  still  ex 
ceedingly  cautious  as  to  how  he  was  going  in,  bracing 
his  natural  resources  and  power  to  withstand  shock.  His 
one  pet  idea,  the  thing  he  put  more  faith  in  than  any 
thing  else,  was  his  street-railway  holdings,  and  particu 
larly  his  actual  control  of  the  Seventeenth  and  Nineteenth 
Street  line.  Through  an  advance  to  him,  or  deposit, 
made  in  his  bank  by  Stener  at  a  time  when  the  stock  of 
the  Seventeenth  and  Nineteenth  Street  was  at  a  low  ebb, 
he  had  managed  to  pick  it  up — fifty-one  per  cent,  of  it — 
for  himself  and  Stener,  by  virtue  of  which  he  was  able  to 
do  as  he  pleased  with  the  road.  He  had  resorted  to  very 
"peculiar"  methods,  as  they  afterward  came  to  be  termed 
in  financial  circles,  to  get  this  stock  at  his  own  valuation, 
for  through  agents  he  had  caused  suits  for  damages  to  be 
brought  against  the  company  for  non-payment  of  in 
terest  due.  A  little  stock  in  the  hands  of  a  hireling,  a 
request  made  to  a  court  of  record  to  examine  the  books 
of  the  company  in  order  to  determine  whether  a  receiver 
ship  were  not  advisable,  a  simultaneous  attack  in  the 
stock  market,  selling  at  three,  five,  seven,  and  ten  points 
off,  brought  the  frightened  stockholders  into  the  market 
with  their  holdings.  The  banks  considered  the  line  a 
poor  risk,  and  called  their  loans  in  connection  with  it. 
His  father's  bank  had  made  one  loan  to  one  of  the  prin 
cipal  stockholders,  and  that  was  promptly  called,  of  course. 
Then,  through  an  agent,  the  several  heaviest  share 
holders  were  approached  and  an  offer  was  made  to  help 
them  out.  The  stocks  would  be  taken  off  their  hands 
at  forty.  They  had  not  really  been  able  to  discover  the 
source  of  all  their  woes;  but  they  realized  that  the  road 
was  in  bad  condition.  Better  let  it  go.  The  money  was 
immediately  forthcoming,  and  Mr.  Frank  Cowperwood 
and  Mr.  George  W.  Stener  jointly  controlled  fifty-one  per 
cent.  But,  as  in  the  case  of  the  North  Pennsylvania  line, 
Cowperwood  had  been  quietly  buying  all  of  the  small 

276 


THE    FINANCIER 

minority  holdings,  so  that  he  had  in  reality  fifty-one  per 
cent,  of  the  stock,  and  Stener  twenty-five  per  cent.  more. 
This  did  not  satisfy,  but  intoxicated  him,  for  in  his  suc 
cess  in  this  matter  he  immediately  saw  the  opportunity 
of  fulfilling  his  long-contemplated  dream — that  of  re 
organizing  the  company  in  conjunction  with  the  North 
Pennsylvania  line,  issuing  three  shares  where  one  had 
been  before  and  starting  to  unload  all  but  a  control  on 
the  general  public.  In  these  early  manipulations  he  was 
really  not  as  daring  as  other  American  financiers  later 
became,  but  he  was  daring  enough.  His  plan  was  to 
spread  rumors  of  the  coming  consolidation  of  the  two 
lines,  to  appeal  to  the  legislature  for  privileges  of  exten 
sion,  to  get  up  notable  prospectuses  and  annual  reports, 
and  to  boom  the  stock  on  the  stock  exchange  as  well  as 
his  various  resources  would  permit.  The  trouble  is  that 
when  you  are  trying  to  make  a  market  for  a  stock — to 
unload  a  large  issue  such  as  his  was  (over  five  hundred 
thousand  dollars'  worth) — while  retaining  five  hundred 
thousand  for  yourself,  it  requires  large  capital  to  handle 
it.  The  owner  in  these  cases  is  compelled  to  be  able 
not  only  to  go  on  the  market  and  do  large  amounts  of 
fictitious  buyings,  thus  creating  a  fictitious  demand,  but 
once  this  fictitious  demand  has  deceived  the  public  and 
he  has  been  able  to  unload  a  considerable  quantity  of  his 
wares,  he  is,  unless  he  rids  himself  of  all  his  stock,  com 
pelled  to  stand  behind  it.  If,  for  instance,  he  sells  five 
thousand  shares,  as  was  done  in  this  instance,  and  retains 
five  thousand,  he  must  see  that  the  public  price  of  the 
outstanding  five  thousand  shares  does  not  fall  below  a 
certain  point,  because  the  value  of  his  private  shares  falls 
with  them.  And  if,  as  is  almost  always  the  case,  the 
private  shares  have  been  hypothecated  with  banks  and 
trust  companies  for  money  wherewith  to  conduct  other 
enterprises,  the  falling  of  their  value  in  the  open  market 
merely  means  that  the  banks  will  call  for  large  margins 
to  protect  their  loans  or  call  their  loans  entirely.  This 

277 


THE    FINANCIER 

would  mean  that  his  work  was  a  failure,  and  he  might 
readily  fail.  He  was  already  conducting  one  such  diffi 
cult  campaign  in  connection  with  this  city-loan  deal,  the 
price  of  which  varied  from  day  to  day,  and  which  he  was 
only  too  anxious  to  have  vary,  for  in  the  main  he  profited 
by  these  changes.  But  this  second  burden,  interesting 
enough  as  it  was,  meant  that  the  necessity  for  watch 
fulness  was  increased,  and  that  he  had  to  be  doubly 
careful.  To  him  it  was  the  crowning  effort  in  a  long 
series  of  ventures.  Once  the  stock  was  sold  at  a  high 
price,  the  money  borrowed  from  the  city  treasurer  could 
be  returned;  his  own  holdings,  created  out  of  foresight, 
by  capitalizing  the  future,  by  writing  the  shrewd  pros 
pectuses  and  reports,  would  be  worth  their  face  value, 
or  a  little  less.  He  would  have  money  to  invest  in  other 
lines.  He  could  talk  of  a  combination  with  Butler, 
Simpson,  Mollenhauer,  and  others.  He  might  obtain 
the  financial  direction  of  the  whole,  in  which  case  he  would 
be  worth  millions.  One  shrewd  thing  he  did  which  in 
dicated  the  foresight  and  subtlety  of  the  man  was  to 
make  a  separate  organization  or  company  of  any  ex 
tension  which  he  made  to  his  line.  Thus,  if  he  had  two 
or  three  miles  of  track  on  a  street,  and  he  wanted  to  ex 
tend  it  two  or  three  miles  farther  on  the  same  street, 
instead  of  including  this  extension  in  the  existing  cor 
poration,  he  would  make  a  second  corporation  to  control 
the  additional  two  or  three  miles  of  right  of  way.  The 
corporation  he  would  capitalize  at  so  much,  and  issue 
stocks  and  bonds  for  its  construction,  equipment,  and 
manipulation.  This  corporation  he  would  then  take  over 
into  the  parent  concern,  issuing  more  stocks  and  bonds 
wherewith  to  do  it.  In  writing  a  prospectus  or  a  report 
of  the  conditions  and  prospects  of  the  City  Street  Rail 
way  Company,  which  he  finally  called  all  his  holdings, 
it  looked  so  much  better  to  write  in  that  the  City  Street 
Railway  Company  was  composed  of  the  Seventeenth  and 
Nineteenth  Street  line,  operating  so  many  miles  of  tracks 

278 


THE    FINANCIER 

and  controlling  such  and  such  property ;  the  Union  Passen 
ger  Railway — which  was  merely  an  extension,  perhaps — 
controlling  so  many  more  miles  and  having  such  and 
such  outstanding  liabilities  and  resources;  the  North 
Pennsylvania  Street  Railway  Company,  having  so  many 
more  miles,  and  so  on.  It  meant  more  bookkeeping; 
but  a  large  amount  of  bookkeeping,  as  he  very  originally 
and  very  early  saw,  was  not  at  all  a  bad  thing.  It  was  like 
a  maze  or  net  in  which  one  might  wander  blindly  unless 
he  knew  or  was  shown  how  to  go.  Bookkeepers  and 
assistants  generally  were  never  to  be  trusted  with  more 
than  a  small  portion  of  the  general  facts.  His  brothers, 
for  instance,  did  not  know  the  various  ramifications  of 
his  numerous  deals,  and  executed  his  orders  blindly. 
Sometimes  Joseph  said  to  Edward,  in  a  puzzled  way, 
"  Well,  Frank  knows  what  he  is  about."  He  would  trans 
fer  balances  and  claims  from  one  organization  to  another 
to  suit  himself,  since  it  was  all  a  part  of  his  property, 
anyhow,  and  no  one  but  himself  knew  exactly  how  he 
stood. 

On  the  other  hand,  he  was  most  careful  to  see  that 
every  current  obligation  was  instantly  met,  and  even  an 
ticipated,  for  he  wanted  to  make  a  great  show  of  regu 
larity.  Nothing  was  so  precious  as  reputation  and 
standing.  He  would  call  upon  or  write  his  bankers  and 
trust  companies  weeks  before  an  obligation  was  drawing 
to  maturity,  and  say:  "Now  that  matter  of  Union  Street 
Railway  sixes.  That's  coming  to  a  head  pretty  soon. 
Do  you  want  me  to  settle  in  full,  or  shall  we  go  on?  Or 
do  you  want  me  to  give  you  some  other  stock  in  its 
place?" 

His  forethought,  caution,  and  promptness  pleased  the 
bankers.  They  thought  he  was  one  of  the  sanest,  shrewd 
est  men  they  had  ever  met.  His  reputation  and  standing 
were  so  obviously  precious  to  him.  And  he  was  so  quick 
to  take  advantage  of  any  opportunity. 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,  Frank,"  Walter  Leigh,  the  then 

279 


THE    FINANCIER 

treasurer  of  Drexel  &  Co.,  used  to  say  to  him.  "We 
know  these  things  are  all  right.  It  depends  on  the  mar 
ket.  If  they  don't  drop  off  we  won't  bother.  Let  them 
stand.  How's  business?" 

So  they  would  fall  into  a  pleasant  social  talk,  and  that 
was  the  way  he  did  business. 

However,  by  the  spring  and  summer  of  1871  Cowper- 
wood  had  actually,  without  being  in  any  conceivable 
danger  from  any  source,  spread  himself  out  pretty  thin. 
With  his  growing  financial  opportunities  he  had  grown 
very  liberal  in  what  might  be  termed  his  understanding  of 
living.  Certain  young  art-dealers  in  Philadelphia,  learn 
ing  of  his  artistic  inclinations  and  his  growing  wealth,  had 
followed  him  up  with  suggestions  as  to  what  might  be  had 
in  the  lines  in  which  they  knew  he  was  beginning  to  take  an 
intelligent  interest — furniture,  tapestries,  rugs,  objects  of 
art,  and  paintings — at  first  the  American,  and  later  the 
foreign  masters  exclusively.  Even  yet  he  did  not  deem 
that  he  was  sufficiently  wealthy  to  indulge  in  these  to 
any  notable  extent;  but  they  were  growing  on  him,  and 
he  was  buying  more  liberally  than  he  had  deemed  it 
possible  for  him  to  do  several  years  before.  Pictures  at 
three  hundred,  five  hundred,  a  thousand,  and  even  two 
thousand  dollars  were  now  nothing  extraordinary.  He 
was  beginning  to  see  if  he  wished  to  do  anything  ex 
ceptional  in  art — the  collection  of*  worth-while  paintings, 
for  instance — he  would  have  to  pay  much  more  than  this. 
The  real  collectors  of  distinguished  art  were  paying  ten, 
twenty,  and  thirty  thousand  dollars  each  for  rare  examples, 
and  some  even  still  more.  There  were  rugs,  objects  of  art, 
furniture,  tapestries  which  he  saw  and  heard  of  which 
were  most  alluring  in  their  beauty,  and  which,  because  of 
his  growing  wisdom  in  these  matters,  he  desired  greatly 
to  possess.  His  own  and  his  father's  house  had  not  been 
furnished  fully  in  these  matters ;  and  there  was  that  other 
house  in  North  Tenth  Street,  which,  for  reasons  which 
many  might  desire  to  be  nameless,  he  desired  to  make  ex- 

280 


THE    FINANCIER 

ceptionally  beautiful.  Aileen  had  always  objected  to  the 
condition  of  her  father's  house.  As  their  intimacy  in 
creased  it  was  so  easy  to  see  what  had  been  troubling  her 
most  in  her  life.  Love  of  distinguished  surroundings  was 
a  basic  longing  with  her,  though  she  could  never  have 
interpreted  her  longings  into  perfect  facts.  She  had  not 
the  discrimination.  But  this  place  where  they  were  se 
cretly  meeting  must  be  beautiful,  and  she  was  no  keener 
for  that  than  was  he.  It  became  a  second  treasure- trove, 
more  distinguished  on  the  interior  than  some  rooms  of  his 
own  home.  He  began  to  gather  here  some  rare  examples 
of  altar  cloths,  rugs,  and  tapestries  of  the  middle  ages. 
He  bought  furniture  after  the  Georgian  theory,  which  is 
a  combination  of  Chippendale,  Sheraton,  and  Hepple- 
white  modified  by  the  Italian  Renaissance  and  the  French 
Louis.  He  needed  handsome  examples  of  porcelain, 
statuary,  Greek  vase  forms;  and  he  learned  of  lovely  col 
lections  of  Japanese  ivories  and  netzkes,  if  one  wanted 
to  go  to  the  expense,  which  could  be  displayed  in  hand 
some  curio-cases  or  upon  etageres.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
as  his  money  began  to  come  in,  and  he  had  Aileen  to  love 
him  and  secretly  approve  of  his  conduct,  he  felt  that  he 
was  just  beginning  to  live.  Her  beauty — as  is  always  the 
case  with  passions  of  this  character — grew  upon  him,  and 
he  lavished  presents  of  silver  and  gold  and  jewels,  which 
were  secretly  kept  here  and  here  secretly  worn  for  him. 
The  hours  when  they  could  be  together  were  not  nu 
merous  ;  but  she  used  music-lessons,  visits  to  the  art-gallery, 
riding,  visits  to  friends,  and  so  forth,  as  excuses,  all  of 
which  passed  muster  for  a  period  of  nearly  three  years. 

But  in  other  ways — in  his  own  family  life  and  that  of 
his  father — he  was  easier,  more  liberal.  By  degrees,  and 
largely  because  of  his  own  confidence,  he  induced  his 
father  to  enter  upon  his  street-car  speculations,  to  use 
the  resources  of  the  Third  National  to  carry  a  part  of  his 
loans  and  to  furnish  capital  at  such  times  as  quick  re 
sources  were  necessary.  In  the  beginning  the  old  gentle- 

10  281 


THE    FINANCIER 

man  was  a  little  bit  nervous  and  skeptical,  but  as  time 
wore  on  and  nothing  but  profit  eventuated,  he  grew 
bolder  and  more  confident. 

"Frank,"  he  would  say,  looking  up  over  his  spectacles, 
"aren't  you  afraid  you're  going  a  little  too  fast  in  these 
matters?  You're  carrying  a  lot  of  loans  these  days." 

"No  more  than  I  ever  did,  father,  considering  my 
resources.  I'm  keeping  sharp  books  on  that.  You  can't 
turn  large  deals  without  large  loans.  You  know  that  as 
well  as  I  do." 

"Yes,  I  know;  but — now  that  Green  and  Coates — 
aren't  you  going  it  pretty  strong  there?" 

"Not  at  all.  I  know  the  inside  conditions  there.  The 
stock  is  bound  to  go  up  eventually.  I'll  bull  it  up.  I'll 
combine  it  with  my  other  lines,  if  necessary." 

Cowperwood  stared  at  his  boy  over  his  glasses.  Never 
was  there  such  a  defiant,  daring  manipulator. 

"You  needn't  worry  about  me,  father.  If  you  are 
going  to  do  that,  call  my  loans.  Other  banks  will  loan 
on  my  stocks.  I'd  like  to  see  your  bank  have  the  in 
terest." 

Cowperwood,  Sr.,  was  convinced.  There  was  no  gain 
saying  this  argument.  His  bank,  like  many  another, 
was  loaning  Frank  heavily,  but  no  more  so  than  any 
other.  And  he  was  carrying  great  blocks  of  stocks  in  his 
son's  companies,  solely  because  they  were  safe  and  he 
would  be  told  when  to  get  out  if  ever  that  were  necessary. 
Frank's  brothers  were  being  aided  in  the  same  way  to 
make  some  money  on  the  side;  and  their  interests,  like 
his  father's,  were  now  bound  up  indissolubly  with  his 
own. 

But  this  matter  of  art  was  the  most  singular  thing 
which  had  come  into  his  life  so  far.  Where  some  people 
have  a  passion  for  nature — the  beauty  of  scenery  and  its 
passionate  moods — and  others  for  books  or  music  or  per 
sonal  adornment,  Cowperwood' s  growing  mood  was  for 
pictures  and  objects  of  art  generally.  To  begin  with,  as 

282 


THE    FINANCIER 

we  have  seen,  he  had  not  known  so  very  much  about 
them.  The  furnishings  in  the  first  home  in  North  Front 
Street  were  a  slight  development,  mild  as  he  now  saw  it, 
and  based  on  a  very  moderate  income.  Later  he  had  been 
coming  by  actual  purchase  into  the  understanding  of 
so  many  things.  Fletcher  Gray,  a  partner  in  Cable  & 
Gray,  a  local  firm  of  importers  of  art  objects,  had  called 
on  him  once  in  connection  with  a  tapestry  of  the  four 
teenth  century  weaving  which  he  had  to  sell.  Mr.  Gray, 
a  young  man  of  twenty-six,  was  not  exactly  an  expert  in 
the  matter,  but  an  enthusiastic  student,  and  almost  in 
stantly  he  conveyed  some  of  his  suppressed  and  yet  fiery 
love  of  the  beautiful  to  Cowperwood.  He  was  a  compara 
tively  slender  person,  with  fluffy  chestnut  hair  that  un 
controllably  insisted  on  falling  wavily  over  his  white 
forehead  and  shading  his  dark  walnut-colored  eyes.  His 
face  in  its  totality  suggested  a  carefully  modeled  medallion 
of  Hermes  or  Mercury.  Cowperwood  listened  to  him 
talk  of  an  evening  and  thought  what  a  splendid  thing  it 
would  be,  as  Gray  pointed  out  in  speaking  of  great  men's 
homes  generally,  to  have  a  perfect  collection  of  blue 
porcelains  or  Japanese  netzkes  or  sword-hilts,  or  Oriental 
rugs,  or  Gobelin  or  Flemish  tapestries. 

"There  are  fifty  periods  of  one  shade  of  blue  porcelain 
alone,  Mr.  Cowperwood,"  Gray  had  informed  him,  one 
night.  "I'm  a  mere  novice  in  these  things.  These 
periods  are  to  be  detected  by  the  slight  differences  in 
the  decorations,  and  you  can  trace  the  changes  from 
period  to  period.  There  are  at  least  seven  distinct  schools 
or  periods  of  rugs — Persian,  Armenian,  Arabian,  Flemish, 
Modern  Polish,  Hungarian,  and  so  on.  If  you  ever  went 
into  that,  it  would  be  a  distinguished  thing  to  get  a  com 
plete — I  mean  a  representative — collection  of  some  one 
period,  or  of  all  these  periods.  They  are  beautiful.  I 
have  seen  some  of  them,  others  I've  read  about." 

He  stopped  and  looked  at  Cowperwood,  who  felt  quite 
clearly  that  this  youth  for  some  reason  expected  him  to 

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THE    FINANCIER 

take  an  intense  interest  in  art.  He  talked  as  though 
Cowperwood  would,  of  course,  become  a  great  collector 
of  something. 

"1  tell  you,  Mr.  Cowperwood,"  he  said,  another  night, 
during  one  of  their  friendly  chats,  "there  is  nothing 
like  this  business  to  me.  I  love  it.  There's  money  in  it, 
I  confess  that,  but  there  is  so  much  more  to  me.  The 
study  of  it  never  wearies  me..  I  can't  get  down  to  my  place 
too  early  nor  stay  too  late.  I  know  that  I  know  nothing 
at  all  comparatively,  but  I  know  also  that  I  know  a  little, 
at  that." 

"You're  in  the  right  business,"  observed  Cowperwood, 
sympathetically.  "Any  one  can  see  that." 

"It's beautiful,"  the  latter  observed,  and  looked  lovingly 
at  a  splendid  Grecian  amphora  unearthed  somewhere  in 
Asia  Minor,  which  he  had  brought  to  Cowperwood's  home 
in  order  to  induce  him  to  buy  it.  It  was  of  a  unique  form, 
full-bodied,  wide-legged,  wide-based,  with  one  of  its  de 
licious  handles,  that  had  been  firmly  baked  to  its  side, 
gone,  and  the  decorations  done  in  a  dull  lead-blue  wash 
against  the  original  light  umber  of  the  burnt  clay.  He  had 
the  history  of  the  excavated  house  in  which  it  had  been 
discovered,  and  meditated  as  to  the  art  of  the  life  that  had 
passed.  His  love  for  its  beauty  was  so  genuine  that  it 
moved  Cowperwood. 

"You'll  make  a  convert  of  me  yet,"  he  said.  "Art 
will  be  the  ruin  of  me.  I'm  inclined  that  way  tempera 
mentally  as  it  is,  I  think,  and  between  you  and  Ellsworth 
and  Gordon  Strake" — he  mentioned  another  young  man 
who  was  intensely  interested  in  the  best  examples  of 
painting — "you'll  complete  my  downfall.  Strake  has  a 
splendid  idea.  He  wants  me  to  begin  right  now — I'm 
using  that  word  'right'  in  the  sense  of  'properly,'  "  he 
commented — "and  get  what  examples  I  can  of  just  the 
few  rare  things  in  each  school  or  period  of  art  which 
would  illustrate  each  properly  and  fully.  He  says  •  the 
great  pictures  are  going  to  increase  in  value,  and  what  I 

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THE    FINANCIER 

could  get  for  a  few  hundred  thousand  now  will  be  worth 
millions  later  on.  He  doesn't  want  me  to  bother  with 
American  art." 

"He's  right,"  exclaimed  Gray,  "although  it  isn't  good 
business  for  me  to  praise  another  art  man.  And  I  think 
Strake  knows  what  he's  talking  about.  Paintings  aren't 
as  much  a  specialty  with  us  as  some  other  things;  but 
they  are,  too.  I  think  of  them  most  as  connected  with 
decoration.  But  if  you  did  want  to  make  a  great  col 
lection,  you  couldn't  do  better  than  follow  that  idea.  I've 
never  seen  or  heard  of  anything  like  it  outside  of  the 
great  museums,  but  it  would  be  splendid  if  it  were  done 
right.  It  would  take  a  great  deal  of  money,  though,  I 
should  think." 

"Not  so  very  much.  At  least,  not  all  at  once.  It 
would  be  a  matter  of  years,  of  course.  Strake  thinks  that 
some  excellent  examples  of  different  periods  could  be 
picked  up  now  and  later  replaced  if  anything  better  in 
the  same  field  showed  up." 

"That's  an  idea,  also.     We  all  do  that  more  or  less." 

Gray  stirred  meditatively  in  his  chair  and  ran  his 
hand  through  his  fluffy  hair.  His  eyes  brooded  great,  deep 
things  concerning  the  illimitable  realm  of  refinement  in 
which  he  was  working.  Cowperwood  caught  the  sig 
nificance  and  intensity  of  his  idea  clearly.  What  could 
be  greater,  more  distinguished  than  to  make  a  splendid, 
authentic  collection  of  something?  He  was  making 
money  now.  Why  not  begin  now?  What  he  bought 
could  be  sold  later  if  necessary.  Both  Strake  and  Gray 
assured  him  that  the  rare,  genuine  things  of  art  rose  in 
value,  and  he  knew  it  must  be  so.  His  common  sense  told 
him  that  judgment  and  discrimination  and  effort  put  in 
this  realm,  as  in  any  other,  must  of  necessity  result  in 
value  as  well  as  distinction.  What  was  a  rich  man  without 
a  great  distinction  of  presence  and  artistic  background? 
The  really  great  men  had  it.  There  were  some  here  in 
Philadelphia  who  tried  to  have  it,  but  what  he  had  seen 

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THE    FINANCIER 

thus  far  had  been  woefully  insufficient.  If  he  should  go 
on  now  accumulating  wealth,  was  not  this  business  of 
making  a  great  collection  just  the  thing  to  do?  Surely 
it  was.  And  it  suited  the  texture  and  fiber  of  his  being 
as  it  was  steadily  unfolding.  He  wanted  to  be  at  last 
artistically  as  well  as  financially  distinguished. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

THINGS  would  have  gone  exceedingly  well  in  the 
face  of  any  ordinary  drift  or  turn  of  fortune  had  it 
been  that  Cowperwood's  life  and  career  depended  upon 
any  such  conventional  thing  as  an  ordinary  drift  of  events. 
Some  lives  seem  fated  for  the  dramatic  and  the  spectacu 
lar.  There  seems  no  such  thing  as  peace  in  the  stars 
that  govern  at  their  birth.  All  is  unrest  and  turmoil, 
great  activity  and  great  thought. 

This  boy,  for  he  was  scarcely  more  than  that,  was 
peculiarly  marked  by  and  for  this  spirit  of  unrest. 
His  mind,  in  spite  of  his  outward  placidity,  was  tinged 
by  a  great  seeking.  Wealth,  in  the  beginning,  had 
seemed  the  only  goal,  to  which  was  shortly  added  the 
beauty  of  women.  And  now  art,  for  art's  sake — the  first, 
faint  radiance  of  a  rosy  dawn — had  begun  to  shine  in 
upon  him,  and  to  the  beauty  of  womanhood  he  was  be 
ginning  to  see  how  necessary  it  was  to  add  the  beauty  of 
life — the  beauty  of  material  background — how,  in  fact, 
the  only  background  for  great  beauty  was  great  art. 
This  girl,  this  Aileen  Butler,  in  her  raw  youth  and  radi 
ance,  was  nevertheless  creating  in  him  a  sense  of  the 
distinguished,  and  a  need  for  it  which  had  never  existed 
in  him  before  to  the  same  degree.  It  is  impossible  to 
define  these  subtleties  of  reaction,  temperament  on 
temperament,  for  no  one  knows  to  what  degree  we  are 
marked  by  the  things  which  attract  us.  A  love  affair 
such  as  this  had  proved  to  be  was  quite  as  a  drop  of 
coloring  added  to  a  glass  of  clear  water,  or  a  foreign  chemi 
cal  agent  introduced  into  a  delicate  chemical  formula. 

287 


THE    FI  NANCIER 

A  definite  change  had  taken  place,  and  never  again  could 
things  be  as  they  had  been  before. 

Aileen  Butler,  for  all  her  crudeness,  was  a  definite 
force  personally.  Her  nature  was,  in  a  way,  a  protest 
against  the  clumsy  conditions  by  which  she  found  herself 
surrounded.  Her  father's  local  reputation  as  a  quondam 
garbage  contractor  ("slop-collector,"  was  the  unfeeling 
comment  of  the  vulgarian  cognoscenti) ;  her  own  unavail 
ing  efforts  to  right  a  condition  of  material  vulgarity  or 
artistic  anarchy  in  her  own  home;  the  hopelessness  of 
ever  being  admitted  to  those  distinguished  portals  which 
she  recognized  afar  off  as  the  last  sancta  sanctorum  of 
established  respectability  and  social  distinction,  had  bred 
in  her,  even  at  this  early  age,  a  feeling  of  deadly  opposition 
to  conditions  as  they  were.  Through  the  Cowperwoods 
at  first  she  had  hoped  to  meet  a  few  people,  young  men 
and  women — and  particularly  men — who  were  above 
the  station  in  which  she  found  herself,  and  to  whom  her 
beauty  and  prospective  fortune  (significant,  but  not  great) 
would  commend  her;  but  this  had  not  been  the  case. 
The  Cowperwoods  themselves,  in  spite  of  Frank  Cowper- 
wood's  artistic  proclivities  and  growing  wealth,  were  not 
in  yet.  In  fact,  aside  from  the  subtle,  preliminary  con 
sideration  which  they  were  receiving,  they  were  a  long 
way  off. 

"Mrs.  Cowperwood,  my  dear!  She's  charming  to 
look  at,  don't  you  know,  but  essentially  middle-class. 
He  is  an  able  man— any  one  can  see  that.  If  it  weren't 
for  her  now — but — " 

Up  go  the  eyebrows.  We  assume  a  bored  look.  If  we 
were  less  refined  we  would  lift  our  hands  vulgarly  in  pro 
test.  And  so  there  you  are.  Frank  Cowperwood,  shrewd 
observer  that  he  was,  was  beginning  to  see  where  the  rub 
was.  He  knew. 

But  Aileen,  foiled  in  her  ambitions  by  a  certain  in 
souciance  of  manner  expressed  in  her  presence  by  the 
daughters  of  those  superior  families  who  deigned  to  come 

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THE    FI  NANCI  ER 

once  or  twice  to  the  Cowperwood  home  and  elsewhere 
where  she  went,  and  offended  by  the  passionate  interest 
youth  may  display  without  admitting  social  equality, 
had  turned  in  thought  to  the  strongest,  most  artistic, 
most  distinguished  personality  of  them  all — Cowperwood 
himself.  In  him  instinctively  she  recognized  a  way 
out — a  door — and  by  the  same  token  a  subtle,  impend 
ing  artistic  future  of  great  magnificence.  (That  Cowper 
wood  saw  the  same  in  her  need  not  be  assumed.)  This 
man  would  make  a  name  for  himself;  he  would  rise 
beyond  anything  he  now  dreamed  of — she  felt  it.  There 
was  here  in  him,  in  some  nebulous,  unrecognizable 
form,  a  great  artistic  reality  which  was  finer  than  any 
thing  she  could  plan  for  herself.  She  wanted  luxury, 
magnificence,  social  station.  Well,  if  she  could  get  this 
man  they  would  come  to  her.  There  were,  apparently, 
insuperable  barriers  in  the  way;  but  hers  was  no  weak 
ling  nature,  and  neither  was  his.  They  ran  together 
temperamentally  from  the  first  like  two  leopards.  Her 
own  thoughts — 'Crude,  half  formulated,  half  spoken — 
nevertheless  matched  his  to  a  degree  in  the  quality  of 
their  force  and  their  raw  directness. 

"I  don't  think  papa  knows  how  to  do,"  she  said  to 
him,  one  day.  "It  isn't  his  fault.  He  can't  help  it. 
He  knows  that  he  can't.  And  he  knows  that  I  know  it. 
For  years  I  wanted  him  to  move  out  of  that  old  house 
there.  He  knows  that  he  ought  to.  But  even  that 
wouldn't  do  much  good." 

She  paused,  looking  at  him  with  a  straight,  clear,  vig 
orous  glance.  He  liked  the  medallion  sharpness  of  her 
features — their  smooth,  vigorous  modeling. 

"Never  mind,  pet,"  he  replied.  They  were  in  the 
North  Tenth  Street  house  at  the  time;  and  he  had  been 
more  than  ever  impressed  with  the  force  and  fire  of  her 
disposition  and  the  essential  largeness  of  a  mind  which 
would  never  be  perfect  for  want  of  some  subtle  strain  of 
refinement — he  could  not  tell  what.  "We  will  arrange 

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THE    FINANCIER 

all  these  things  later,  you  and  I.  I  don't  see  my  way 
out  of  this  now;  but  I  think  the  best  thing  to  do  is  to 
confess  to  Lillian  some  day,  and  see  if  some  other  plan 
can't  be  arranged.  She  doesn't  want  to  injure  the  chil 
dren  any  more  than  I  do.  I  want  to  fix  it  so  they  won't 
be  injured.  But  if  she's  being  neglected,  as  she  certain 
ly  is  in  this  case,  and  I'm  not  satisfied,  the  best  thing 
to  do  is  to  separate.  I  can  provide  for  her  amply. 
I  wouldn't  be  at  all  surprised  if  she  would  be  willing 
to  let  me  go.  She  certainly  wouldn't  want  any  pub 
licity." 

He  was  counting  practically,  and  man-fashion,  on  her 
love  for  her  children. 

Aileen  looked  at  him  with  clear,  questioning,  uncer 
tain  eyes.  She  was  not  wholly  without  sympathy,  but 
in  a  way  this  situation  did  not  appeal  to  her  as  needing 
much.  Mrs.  Cowperwood  was  not  friendly  in  her  mood 
toward  her.  It  was  not  based  on  anything  save  a  differ 
ence  in  their  point  of  view.  Mrs.  Cowperwood  could  never 
understand  how  a  girl  could  carry  her  head  so  high  and 
"put  on  such  airs,"  and  Aileen  could  not  understand  how 
any  one  could  be  so  lymphatic  and  lackadaisical  as  her 
hostess.  That  was  no  way  to  live.  Life  was  made  for 
riding,  driving,  dancing,  going.  It  was  made  for  airs 
and  banter  and  persiflage  and  coquetry.  To  see  this 
woman,  the  wife  of  a  young,  forceful  man  like  Cowper 
wood,  acting,  even  though  she  were  five  years  older  and 
the  mother  of  two  children,  as  though  life  on  its  romantic 
and  enthusiastic  pleasurable  side  were  all  over  was  too 
much  for  her.  Of  course  Lillian  was  unsuited  to  Frank; 
of  course  he  needed  a  young  woman  like  herself,  and  fate 
would  surely  give  him  to  her.  Then  what  a  delicious  life 
they  would  lead! 

"Oh,  Frank,"  she  exclaimed  to  him,  over  and  over, 
"if  we  could  only  manage  it.  Do  you  think  we  can?" 

"Do  I  think  we  can?  Certainly  I  do.  It's  only  a 
matter  of  time.  I  think  if  I  were  to  put  the  matter  to 

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THE    FINANCIER 

her  clearly,  she  wouldn't  expect  me  to  stay.  You  look 
out  how  you  conduct  your  affairs.  If  your  father  or  your 
brother  should  ever  suspect  me  there 'd  be  an  explosion 
in  this -town,  if  nothing  worse.  They'd  fight  me  in  all 
my  money  deals,  if  they  didn't  kill  me.  Are  you  think 
ing  carefully  of  what  you  are  doing?" 

"All  the  time.  If  anything  happens  I'll  deny  every 
thing.  They  can't  prove  it  if  I  deny  it.  I'll  come  to 
you  in  the  long  run,  just  the  same." 

She  stroked  his  cheeks  with  the  loving  fingers  of  the 
wildly  enamoured  woman. 

"I'll  do  anything  for  you,  sweetheart,"  she  declared. 
"I'd  die  for  you  if  I  had  to.  I  love  you  so." 

"Well,  pet,  no  danger.  You  wouldn't  have  to  do  any 
thing  like  that.  But  be  careful." 

Then,  after  several  years  of  this  secret  relationship, 
in  which  the  ties  of  sympathy  and  understanding  grew 
stronger  instead  of  weaker,  came  the  storm.  It  burst 
unexpectedly  and  out  of  a  clear  sky,  and  bore  no  relation 
to  the  intention  or  volition  of  any  individual.  It  was 
nothing  more  than  a  fire,  a  distant  one,  the  great  Chicago 
fire,  October  7th,  1871,  which  burned  that  city — its  vast 
commercial  section — to  the  ground,  and  instantly  and  in 
cidentally  produced  a  financial  panic,  vicious,  though  of 
short  duration.  The  fire  began  on  Saturday,  October  7th, 
and  continued  apparently  unabated  until  the  following 
Wednesday.  It  destroyed  the  banks,  the  commercial 
houses,  the  shipping  conveniences,  and  vast  stretches  of 
property — millions  upon  millions — of  the  Western  city. 
The  heaviest  loss  fell  naturally  upon  the  insurance  com 
panies,  which  instantly,  in  many  cases — the  majority — 
closed  their  doors.  This  threw  the  loss  back  on  the 
merchants — New  York  and  New  England  principally— 
who  had  sold  goods  to  the  Western  dealers  on  credit,  and 
who  now  could  not  expect  to  be  paid  for  even  a  very 
small  percentage  of  their  claims.  Again,  very  grievous 
losses  were  borne  by  the  host  of  Eastern  capitalists  who 

291 


THE    FINANCIER 

had  for  years  past  partly  owned,  or  who  held  heavy 
mortgages  on,  the  magnificent  buildings  for  business 
purposes  and  residences  in  which  Chicago  was  already 
rivaling  every  city  on  the  continent.  Transportation 
was  disturbed,  and  the  keen  scent  of  Wall  Street,  and 
Third  Street  in  Philadelphia,  and  State  Street  in  Boston, 
instantly  perceived  in  the  early  reports  the  gravity  of  the 
situation.  Nothing  could  be  done  on  Saturday  or  Sunday 
after  the  exchange  closed,  for  the  opening  reports  came  too 
late.  On  Monday,  though,  the  facts  were  pouring  in 
thick  and  fast;  and  the  owners  of  railroad  securities, 
government  securities,  street-car  securities,  and,  indeed, 
all  other  forms  of  stocks  and  bonds,  began  to  throw  them 
on  the  market  in  order  to  raise  cash.  The  banks  natu 
rally  were  calling  their  loans,  and  the  result  was  a  stock 
stampede  which  equaled  the  Black  Friday  of  Wall  Street 
of  two  years  before. 

Cowperwood  and  his  father  were  out  of  town  at  the 
time  the  fire  began.  They  had  gone  with  several  friends 
—bankers — to  look  at  a  proposed  route  of  extension  of  a 
local  steam-railroad,  on  which  a  loan  was  desired.  In 
buggies  they  had  driven  over  a  good  portion  of  the  route, 
and  were  returning  to  Philadelphia  late  Sunday  evening 
when  the  cries  of  newsboys  hawking  an  "extra"  reached 
their  ears. 

"Ho!    Extra!    Extra!    All  about  the  big  Chicago  fire !" 

"Ho!  Extra!  Extra!  Chicago  burning  down !  Extra! 
Extra!" 

The  cries  were  long-drawn-out,  ominous,  pathetic.  In 
the  dusk  of  a  dreary  Sunday  afternoon,  when  the  city  had 
apparently  retired  to  Sabbath  meditation  and  prayer, 
with  that  tinge  of  the  dying  year  in  the  foliage  and  in 
the  air,  one  caught  a  sense  of  something  grim  and  gloomy. 

"Hey,  boy!"  called  Cowperwood,  listening,  seeing  a 
shabbily  clothed  misfit  of  a  boy  with  a  bundle  of  papers 
under  his  arm  turning  a  corner.  ' '  What's  that  ?  Chicago 
burning!" 

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THE    FINANCIER 

He  looked  at  his  father  and  the  other  men  in  a  sig 
nificant  way  as  he  reached  for  the  paper,  and  then,  glancing 
at  the  headlines,  realized  the  worst. 

ALL  CHICAGO  BURNING 

FIRE  RAGES  UNCHECKED  IN  COMMERCIAL    SECTION  SINCE  YESTERDAY 
EVENING.       BANKS,  COMMERCIAL  HOUSES,  PUBLIC  BUILDINGS 
IN  RUINS.      DIRECT  TELEGRAPHIC  COMMUNICATION 
SUSPENDED    SINCE    THREE    O'CLOCK    TO 
DAY.       NO     END     TO      PROGRESS 
OF    DISASTER    IN     SIGHT 

"That  looks  rather  serious,"  said  Cowpenvood,  calmly, 
to  his  companions,  a  cold,  commanding  force  coming 
into  his  eyes  and  voice.  To  his  father  he  said  a  little 
while  afterward,  "It's  panic,  unless  the  majority  of  the 
banks  and  brokerage  firms  stand  together." 

He  was  thinking  quickly,  brilliantly,  resourcefully  of 
his  own  outstanding  obligations.  His  father's  bank  was 
carrying  one  hundred  thousand  dollars'  worth  of  his 
street-railway  securities  at  sixty,  and  fifty  thousand  dol 
lars'  worth  of  city  loan  at  seventy.  His  father  had  "up 
with  him"  (Cowperwood)  over  forty  thousand  dollars  in 
cash  covering  market  manipulations  in  these  stocks. 
The  banking  house  of  Drexel  &  Co.  was  on  his  books  as 
a  creditor  for  one  hundred  thousand,  and  that  loan  would 
be  called  unless  they  were  especially  merciful,  which 
was  not  likely.  Jay  Cooke  &  Co.  were  his  creditors  for 
another  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand.  They  would 
want  their  money.  At  four  smaller  banks  and  three 
brokerage  companies  he  was  debtor  for  sums  ranging  from 
sixty  and  fifty  thousand  dollars  down.  The  city  treasurer 
was  involved  with  him  to  the  extent  of  nearly  five  hundred 
thousand  dollars,  and  exposure  of  that  would  create  a  scan 
dal;  the  State  treasurer  for  two  hundred  thousand.  There 
were  small  accounts,  hundreds  of  them,  ranging  from  one 
hundred  dollars  up  to  five  and  ten  thousand.  A  panic 

293 


THE    FINANCIER 

would  mean  not  only  a  withdrawal  of  deposits  and  a 
calling  of  loans,  but  a  heavy  depression  of  securities. 
How  could  he  realize  on  his  securities? — that  was  the 
question — how,  without  selling  so  many  points  off  that 
his  fortune  would  be  swept  away  and  he  would  be  ruined  ? 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

IT  was  early  evening  when  these  cries  of  "extra"  had 
sounded  in  Cowperwood's  ears.  They  were,  in  a  way, 
like  a  death-knell,  for  never  in  all  the  upbuilding  of  his 
affairs  had  his  lines  of  interests  been  so  extended.  His 
investment  in  local  street-railway  stocks  for  himself  and 
Stener  represented  fully  half  of  all  his  interests.  And 
the  deposit  of  city  loan,  which  he  manipulated  for  the 
city  treasurer,  represented  a  fourth  more.  If  this  were  a 
temporary  depression  which  would  affect  only  a  few  houses, 
he  might  be  able  to  borrow  heavily  from  others;  but  it 
was  not  a  temporary  depression  in  that  sense.  All  houses 
would  be  affected — all  business.  New  York,  Chicago, 
Boston,  Philadelphia — it  was  all  the  same  now.  No 
banking  house,  insurance  company,  trust  company,  or 
other  commercial  organization  would  be  loaning  much  of 
anything  on  anything  for  some  time  to  come.  They 
would  be  calling  their  loans.  And  those  investors  who 
had  deposited  money  with  him  for  speculative  purposes 
would  now,  on  the  morrow,  cancel  their  orders  and  with 
draw  their  deposits,  or  sell  short.  Where  would  he  raise 
the  money  to  meet  these  cancellations,  withdrawals,  calls, 
and  shrinkages  in  values?  He  had,  perhaps,  between 
four  and  five  hundred  thousand  dollars  in  quick  assets; 
but  to-morrow's  complications  might  necessitate  a  mil 
lion  or  more — in  all  likelihood  would.  To-morrow  would 
see  a  great  shrinkage.  At  the  sound  of  the  gong  on  the 
floor  of  the  stock  exchange,  announcing  the  opening  of 
the  day's  business,  there  would  be  a  general  crash,  a 
rush  to  sell.  These  stocks  of  his  companies  which  he 
valued  at  eighty  and  ninety  cents  on  the  dollar,  and 

295 


THE    Fl  NANCI  ER 

which  he  had  hypothecated  with  banks  at  these  figures 
for  sixty  and  seventy  per  cent,  of  their  total  value,  would 
drop  ten,  fifteen,  or  twenty  points  in  the  hour.  It  was 
probable  that  even  at  these  figures  they  could  not  be 
disposed  of  in  sufficient  quantities  to  aid  him;  and,  any 
how,  it  was  his  business  to  support  the  market — not  sell. 
But  that  would  not  retard  the  banks  from  demanding 
that  additional  collateral  be  furnished  to  cover  the  shrink 
age,  if  they  did  not  demand  the  total  of  his  loans.  Where 
was  he  to  get  it  ?  He  was  sorry  now  that  he  was  so  badly 
involved  with  the  city  treasury.  Something  ill  might 
come  of  that.  He  figured  briskly  the  while  he  waved  adieu 
to  his  financial  friends,  who  hurried  away,  struck  with 
their  ow^n  predicament;  and  he  and  his  father  waited  to 
take  a  car  for  Girard  Avenue. 

"You  had  better  go  on  out  to  the  house,  father,  and 
I'll  stop  and  send  some  telegrams."  The  'phone  had  not 
been  invented  then.  "I'll  be  right  out,  and  we'll  go  into 
this  thing  together.  It  looks  like  black  weather  to  me. 
I  wouldn't,  if  I  were  you,  say  anything  to  any  one  until 
after  we  have  had  our  talk;  then  we  can  decide  what  to 
do." 

Old  Cowperwood  was  plucking  at  his  side-whiskers  in 
his  mackerel-like  way.  He  was  cogitating  as  to  what 
might  happen  to  him  in  case  his  son  failed,  for  he  was 
deeply  involved  with  him,  He  was  a  little  gray  in  his 
complexion  now,  frightened;  for  he  had  strained  a  point 
in  his  affairs  to  accommodate  his  son.  If  Frank  should 
not  be  able  promptly  on  the  morrow  to  meet  the  call 
which  the  bank  might  have  to  make  for  one  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand  dollars,  the  onus  and  scandal  of  the  situa 
tion  would  be  on  him.  Why  had  he  favored  his  son  so 
largely,  and  that  on  stocks  which  were  liable  to  shrink 
so  notably?  would  be  the  first  question  that  would  be 
asked.  The  subtle  eyes  of  Adam  Davi,  the  first  vice- 
president  of  the  bank,  would  have  to  be  met — a  man  who 
was  obviously  waiting  to  step  into  his  shoes.  He  was  a 

2Q6 


THE    FINANCIER 

shrewder  man  than  Cowperwood,  pkre,  as  the  latter  knew; 
and  he  held  secret  relations  with  some  of  the  directors- 
was  on  friendly  outside  terms  with  several — and  might 
gladly  comment  on  this  situation,  if  it  proved  unfavorable 
to  the  powers  in  charge.  It  was  ticklish  business,  and  had 
to  be  solved  by  an  immediate  return  of  the  cash  on  call, 
if  at  all. 

On  the  other  hand,  Cowperwood,  the  son,  was  medita 
ting  on  the  tangled  relation  he  now  found  himself  in  in 
connection  with  the  city  treasurer  and  the  fact  that  it 
was  not  possible  for  him  to  support  the  market  alone. 
Those  who  should  have  been  in  a  position  to  help  him 
were  now  as  bad  off  as  himself.  There  were  many  un 
favorable  points  in  the  whole  situation.  Drexel  &  Co. 
had  been  booming  railway  stocks— loaning  heavily  on 
them.  Jay  Cooke  &  Co.  had  been  backing  Northern 
Pacific — were  practically  doing  their  best  to  build  that 
immense  transcontinental  system  alone.  Naturally,  they 
were  long  on  that.  At  the  first  word  they  would  throw 
over  their  surest  securities — government  bonds,  and  the 
like — in  order  to  protect  their  more  speculative  holdings. 
The  bears  would  see  the  point.  They  would  hammer  and 
hammer,  selling  short  all  along  the  line.  But  he  did  not 
dare  to  do  that.  He  would  be  breaking  his  own  back 
quickly,  and  what  he  needed  was  time.  If  he  could  only 
get  time — three  days,  a  week,  ten  days — this  storm  would 
surely  blow  over. 

The  thing  that  was  troubling  him  most  was  the  matter 
of  the  half-million  invested  with  him  by  Stener.  A  fall 
election  was  drawing  near.  Stener,  although  he  had 
served  two  terms,  was  slated  for  re-election.  A  scan 
dal  in  connection  with  the  city  treasury  would  be  a  very 
bad  thing.  It  would  end  Stener 's  career  as  an  official- 
would  very  likely  send  him  to  the  penitentiary,  and  would 
seriously  damage  his  own  reputation  as  a ,  banker.  It 
might  wreck  the  Republican  party's  chances  to  win.  It 
would  certainly  involve  him  as  having  much  to  do  with 

297 


THE    FINANCIER 

it.  If  that  happened,  he  would  have  the  politicians  to 
reckon  with.  For,  if  he  were  hard  pressed,  as  he  would 
be,  and  failed,  the  fact  that  he  had  been  trying  to  invade 
the  city  street-railway  preserves  which  they  held  sacred  to 
themselves,  with  borrowed  city  money,  and  that  this  bor 
rowing  was  liable  to  cost  them  the  city  election,  would 
all  come  out.  They  could  not  view  all  that  with  a  kindly 
eye.  It  would  be  useless  to  say,  as  he  could,  that  he  had 
borrowed  the  money  at  two  per  cent,  (most  of  it,  to  save 
himself,  had  been  covered  by  a  protective  clause  of  that 
kind) ,  or  that  he  had  merely  acted  as  an  agent  for  Stener. 
That  might  go  down  with  the  unsophisticated  of  the  outer 
world,  but  it  would  never  be  swallowed  by  the  politicians. 
They  knew  better  than  that.  His  failure  at  this  time 
would  be  peculiarly  disastrous.  What  was  he  to  do? 

There  was  another  phase  to  this  situation,  however, 
that  encouraged  him,  and  that  was  his  knowledge  of  how 
city  politics  were  going  in  general.  It  was  useless  for 
any  politician,  however  lofty,  to  take  a  high  and  mighty 
tone  in  a  crisis  like  this.  All  of  them,  great  and  small, 
were  profiting  in  one  way  and  another  through  city  privi 
leges.  Butler,  Mollenhauer,  and  Simpson,  he  knew,  made 
money  out  of  contracts — legal  enough,  though  they  might 
be  looked  upon  as  rank  favoritism — and  also  out  of  vast 
sums  of  money  collected  in  the  shape  of  taxes — land  taxes, 
water  taxes,  etc. — which  were  deposited  in  the  various 
banks  that  these  men  and  the  others  had  had  designated 
as  legal  depositories  for  city  money.  The  banks  sup 
posedly  carried  the  city's  money  in  their  vaults  as  a  favor, 
without  paying  interest  of  any  kind,  and  then  rein 
vested  it — for  whom?  Cowperwood  had  no  complaint 
to  make,  for  he  was  being  well  treated,  but  these  men 
could  scarcely  expect  to  monopolize  all  the  city's  benefits. 
He  did  not  know  either  Mollenhauer  or  Simpson  person 
ally — he  often  wished  he  had  been  introduced  to  them — 
but  he  knew  they  as  well  as  Butler  had  made  money  out 
of  his  own  manipulation  of  city  loan.  Also,  Butler,  whom 

298 


THE    FINANCIER 

he  did  know,  was  most  friendly  to  him.  It  was  not  un 
reasonable  for  him  to  think,  in  a  crisis  like  this,  that  if 
worst  came  to  worst,  he  could  make  a  clean  breast  of  it 
to  Butler  and  receive  aid.  In  case  he  could  not  get 
through  secretly  with  Stener's  help,  Cowperwood  made 
up  his  mind  that  he  would  do  this. 

His  first  move,  however,  would  be  to  go  at  once  to 
Stener's  house  and  demand  the  loan'of  an  additional  three 
or  four  hundred  thousand  dollars.  Stener  had  always  been 
very  tractable,  and  in  this  instance  would  see  how  impor 
tant  it  was  that  his  shortage  of  half  a  million  should  not 
be  made  public.  This  additional  loan  would  go  far  toward 
seeing  him  (Cowperwood)  through.  But  he  must  get  as 
much  more  as  possible.  Where  to  get  it?  Presidents  of 
banks  and  trust  companies,  large  stock  jobbers,  and  the 
like,  would  have  to  be  seen.  Then  there  was  a  loan  of 
one  hundred  thousand  dollars  he  was  carrying  for  Butler. 
The  old  contractor  might  be  induced  to  leave  that.  He 
hurried  to  his  own  house,  secured  his  runabout,  and  drove 
rapidly  to  Stener's. 

As  it  turned  out,  however,  much  to  his  distress  and  con 
fusion,  Stener  was  out  of  town — down  on  the  Chesapeake 
with  several  friends  of  Strobik's  and  Harmon's  shooting 
ducks  and  fishing,  and  was  not  expected  back  for  several 
days.  Mrs.  Stener,  all  unconscious  of  calamity  impending, 
informed  Cowperwood  that  she  was  not  certain  whether 
her  husband  could  be  reached  quickly  by  telegraph  or  not. 
He  was  in  the  marshes  back  of  some  small  town.  Cowper 
wood  sent  an  urgent  wire  to  the  nearest  point  and  then, 
to  make  assurance  doubly  sure,  to  several  other  points 
in  the  same  neighborhood,  asking  him  to  return  imme 
diately.  He  was  not  at  all  sure,  however,  that  Stener 
would  return  in  time  and  was  greatly  nonplussed  and  un 
certain  for  the  moment  as  to  what  his  next  step  would  be. 
Aid  must  be  forthcoming  from  somewhere  and  at  once. 

Suddenly  a  helpful  thought  occurred  to  him.  Butler 
and  Mollenhauer  and  Simpson  were  long  on  local  street- 

299 


THE    FINANCIER 

railways.  They  must  combine  to  support  the  situation 
and  protect  their  interests.  They  could  see  the  big 
bankers,  Drexel  &  Co.  and  Cooke  &  Co.,  and  others  and 
urge  them  to  sustain  the  market.  They  could  strengthen 
things  generally  by  organizing  a  buying  ring,  and  under 
cover  of  their  support,  if  they  would,  he  might  sell 
enough  to  let  him  out,  and  even  permit  him  to  go  short 
and  make  something — a  whole  lot.  It  was  a  brilliant 
thought,  worthy  of  a  greater  situation,  and  its  only 
weakness  was  that  it  was  not  absolutely  certain  of 
fulfilment. 

He  decided  to  go  to  Butler  at  orice,  the  only  disturbing 
thought  being  that  he  would  now  be  compelled  to  reveal 
his  own  and  Stener's  affairs.  But  delay  might  be  fatal. 
He  might  not  be  able  to  connect  with  Stener  before  he 
would  be  compelled  to  close  his  doors  as  a  banker — unless 
the  politicians,  ignorant  of  his  true  predicament,  were 
able  and  willing  to  do  much  more  for  him  than  he  could 
safely  count  upon  their  doing — in  which  case  the  facts  in 
connection  with  the  treasury  defalcation  would  become 
quite  plain  anyhow,  and  he  and  Stener  would  be  hope 
lessly  compromised.  Twenty-four  hours  could  make  a 
felon  out  of  Stener,  a  bankrupt  out  of  himself.  He  had 
been  through  panics  before.  The  first  onslaught  was 
always  the  worst.  After  he  had  closed  his  doors  no  aid 
from  any  one  would  be  forthcoming,  and  the  politicians 
would  have  against  him  the  additional  grievance  that  he 
had  concealed  the  fact  of  the  defalcation.  They  might 
claim  that  if  he  had  told  them  they  would  have  aided  him 
gladly  in  order  to  avoid  exposure.  It  now  seemed  to 
Cowperwood  the  part  of  wisdom  to  go  to  Butler,  who  was 
really  his  friend,  and  urge  upon  him  the  necessity  of 
doing  as  much  as  possible  to  support  the  market  and  pre 
vent  his,  Cowperwood's,  failure  in  order  to  avoid  a  polit 
ical  r'scandal.  To  just  what  extent  the  politicians  would 
feel  the  force  of  this  necessity  Cowperwood  could  not  be 
sure.  Still,  in  Stener's  absence,  it  was  the  only  thing  he 

300 


THE    FINANCIER 

had  to  rely  upon.  He  re-entered  his  runabout  and  drove 
swiftly  to  old  Butler's  home. 

When  he  arrived  there  the  famous  contractor  was  at 
dinner.  He  had  not  heard  the  calling  of  the  extras,  and, 
of  course,  did  not  understand  as  yet  the  significance  of 
the  fire.  The  servant's  announcement  of  Cowperwood 
brought  him  smiling  to  the  door. 

"Won't  you  come  in  and  join  us?  We're  just  havin' 
a  light  supper.  Have  a  cup  of  coffee  or  tea,  now — do." 

"I  can't,"  replied  Cowperwood,  good-naturedly,  view 
ing  the  stout  Irishman  with  a  literary  and  half -humorous 
eye.  He  could  never  quite  resist  the  impulse  to  see  the 
old  gentleman  as  something  different  from  the  thing  he 
really  was — a  successful  man  of  affairs.  He  seemed  just 
the  least  bit  of  a  caricature  of  the  normal — like  Hosea 
Whitney  and  Andrew  Pohlhemus  used  to  be  on  'change. 
To-night,  however,  he  was  in  no  mood  for  light  reflection. 
"  Not  to-night,"  he  thanked  Mr.  Butler;  "  I'm  in  too  much 
of  a  hurry.  I  want  to  see  you  for  just  a  few  moments, 
and  then  I'll  be  off  again.  I  won't  keep  you  very  long." 

"Why,  if  that's  the  case,  I'll  come  right  out."  And 
Butler  returned  to  the  dining-room  to  put  down  his  nap 
kin.  Aileen,  who  was  also  dining,  had  heard  Cowper- 
wood's  voice,  and  was  on  the  qu-i  vive  to  see  him.  She 
wondered  what  it  was  that  could  have  brought  him  at 
this  time  of  night  to  see  her  father.  She  could  not  leave 
the  table  at  once,  but  hoped  to  before  he  went.  Cow 
perwood  was  thinking  of  her,  even  in  the  face  of  this 
impending  storm,  as  he  was  of  his  wife,  and  many  other 
things.  If  his  affairs  came  down  in  a  heap  it  would  go 
hard  with  those  attached  to  him.  In  this  first  clouding 
of  disaster,  he  could  not  tell  how  things  would  eventuate. 
He  meditated  on  this  desperately,  but  he  was  not  panic- 
stricken.  His  naturally  even-molded  face  was  set  in  fine, 
classic  lines;  his  eye  was  as  hard  as  chilled  steel. 

"Well,  now,"  exclaimed  Butler,  returning,  his  coun 
tenance  manifesting  a  decidedly  comfortable  relation - 

301 


THE    FINANCIER 

ship  with  the  world  as  at  present  constituted.  "What's 
up  with  you  to-night?  Nawthin'  wrong,  I  hope.  It's 
been  too  fine  a  day." 

"Nothing  very  serious,  I  hope  myself,"  replied  Cowper- 
wood;  "but  I  want  to  talk  with  you  for  a  few  minutes, 
anyhow.  Don't  you  think  we  had  better  go  up  to  your 
room?" 

"I  was  just  going  to  say  that,"  replied  Butler — "the 
cigars  are  up  there." 

They  started  from  the  reception-room  to  the  stairs, 
Butler  preceding;  and,  as  the  contractor  mounted,  Aileen 
came  out  from  the  dining-room.  She  was  dressed  in  a 
silk  evening  gown  of  rich  garnet,  and  as  she  came  her 
skirts  frou-froued.  Her  splendid  hair  was  drawn  up  from 
the  base  of  the  neck  and  the  line  of  the  forehead  into 
some  quaint  convolutions  which  constituted  a  reddish- 
golden  crown.  Her  complexion  was  glowing,  and  she  had 
all  the 'gay  force  of  white  arms  and  bare  shoulders  which 
so  attracted  Cowperwood.  He  thought  her  neck  and 
shoulders  were  exquisite,  and  he  told  her  so  often.  To 
night  he  was  not  so  conscious  of  her  charms  as  he  was  of 
his  own  troubles.  She  was  not  conscious  of  the  trouble 
which  was  besetting  him ;  but  the  moment  she  saw  his  face 
she  realized  that  there  was  something  wrong.  Her  nature 
was  so  akin  to  his,  so  much  in  accord  with  it  at  present, 
that  she  felt  instantly  that  he  was  laboring  under  some 
burden. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Cowperwood,  how  do  you  do?"  she  ex 
claimed,  coming  forward  and  holding  out  her  hand  as 
her  father  went  on  up-stairs.  She  was  delaying  him  de 
liberately  in  order  to  have  a  word  with  him,  and  this 
bold  acting  was  for  the  benefit  of  others.  It  struck  them 
both  as  silly  at  times,  however  necessary  it  might  be.  To 
night  the  thought  of  the  falsity  of  their  position  was  noth 
ing.  He  was  troubled,  and  she  was  immediately  anxious. 

"What's  the  trouble,  honey?"  she  whispered,  when  her 
father  was  out  of  hearing.  "You  look  worried," 

302 


THE    FINANCIER 

"Nothing  much,  I  hope,  sweet,"  he  said.  "Chicago  is 
burning  up,  and  there's  going  to  be  trouble  to-morrow. 
I  have  to  talk  to  your  father." 

She  had  time  only  for  a  sympathetic,  distressed  "Oh, 
my  honey!"  before  he  withdrew  his  hand  and  strolled 
onward.  She  squeezed  his  arm,  and  went  through  the 
reception-room  to  the  parlor,  where  the  piano  was.  She 
sat  down,  thinking,  for  never  before  had  she  seen  Cowper- 
wood's  face  wearing  such  an  expression  of  stern,  disturbed 
calculation.  It  was  placid,  like  fine,  white  wax,  but  quite 
as  cold;  and  those  deep,  vague,  inscrutable  eyes!  So 
Chicago  was  burning.  What  would  happen  to  him? 
Was  he  very  much  involved?  He  had  never  told  her  in 
detail  of  his  affairs.  He  could  not,  if  he  had  tried.  They 
were  too  complicated.  She  would  not  have  understood 
fully  any  more  than  would  have  Mrs.  Cowperwood.  But 
she  was  worried,  nevertheless,  because  it  was  her  Frank, 
and  because  she  was  bound  to  him  by  what  to  her  seemed 
insoluble  ties. 

Shall  we  pause  to  speculate  for  a  moment  on  this  sym 
pathetic  ebullition  of  temperament?  Literature,  out 
side  of  the  masters,  has  given  us  but  one  idea  of  the  mis 
tress,  the  subtle,  calculating  siren  who  delights  to  prey 
on  the  souls  of  men.  The  journalism  and  the  moral 
pamphleteering  of  the  time  seem  to  foster  it  with  almost 
partisan  zeal.  You  would  imagine  that  a  censorship  of 
life  had  been  established  by  divinity,  and  the  care  of  its 
execution  given  into  the  hands  of  the  utterly  conserva 
tive.  Yet  there  is  that  other  form  of  liaison  which  has 
nothing  to  do  with  conscious  calculation.  In  the  vast 
majority  of  cases  it  is  without  design  or  guile.  The 
average  woman,  controlled  by  her  affections  and  deeply 
in  love,  is  no  more  capable  of  anything  save  sacrificial 
thought  than  a  child — the  desire  to  give;  and  so  long  as 
this  state  endures,  she  can  only  do  this.  She  may  change. 
Hell  hath  no  fury,  etc.  But  the  sacrificial,  yielding, 
solicitous  attitude  is  the  chief  characteristic  of  the  mis- 

303 


THE    FINANCIER 

tress;  and  it  is  this  very  attitude  in  contradistinction  to 
the  grasping  legality  of  established  matrimony  that  has 
caused  so  many  wounds  in  the  defenses  of  the  latter.  The 
temperament  of  man,  either  male  or  female,  cannot  help 
falling  down  before  and  worshiping  this  non-seeking, 
sacrificial  note.  It  approaches  vast  distinction  in  life. 
It  appears  to  be  related  to  that  last  word  in  art,  that 
largeness  of  spirit  which  is  the  first  characteristic  of  the 
great  picture,  the  great  building,  the  great  sculpture,  the 
great  decoration — namely,  a  giving,  freely  and  without 
stint  of  itself,  of  beauty.  Hence  the  significance  of  this 
particular  mood  in  Aileen. 

Cowperwood  went  up-stairs  thinking  of  her  for  the  mo 
ment,  and  then  of  his  wife.  All  the  subleties  of  the  pres 
ent  combination  troubled  him. 

"Sit  down,  sit  down.  You  won't  take  a  little  some- 
thin'?  You  never  do.  I  remember  now.  Well,  have 
a  cigar,  anyhow.  Now,  what's  this  that's  troublin'  you 
to-night?" 

"Extra!  Extra!  All  about  the  big  Chicago  fire! 
Chicago  burning  down!" 

You  could  hear  the  voices  calling  faintly  in  the  dis 
tance,  far  off  toward  the  thicker  residential  sections. 

"Just  that,"  replied  Cowperwood.  "Have  you  heard 
the  news?" 

"No.     What's  that  they're  calling?" 

"It's  a  big  fire  out  in  Chicago." 

"Oh,"  replied  Butler,  still  not  gaining  the  significance 
of  it. 

"It's  burning  down  the  business  section  there,  and  I 
fancy  it's  going  to  disturb  financial  conditions  here  to 
morrow.  That  is  what  I  have  come  to  see  you  about. 
How  are  your  investments?  Pretty  well  drawn  in?" 

Butler  suddenly  gained  the  idea  from  Cowperwood's 
expression,  which  was  stern,  though  normal  enough  to  all 
appearances,  and  from  the  distant  calling  voices  that  there 
was  something  serious  in  the  wind.  He  put  up  his  large 

304 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

hand  as  he  leaned  back  in  his  big  leather  chair,  and  cov 
ered  his  mouth  and  chin  with  it.  Over  those  big  knuckles, 
and  bigger  nose,  thick  and  cartilaginous,  his  large,  shaggy- 
eyebrowed  eyes  gleamed.  His  gray,  bristly  hair  stood 
up  stiffly  in  a  short,  even  growth  all  over  his  head. 

"So  that's  it,"  he  said.  " You're  expectin'  trouble  to 
morrow.  How  are  your  own  affairs?" 

"I'm  in  pretty  good  shape,  I  think,  all  told,  if  the 
money  element  of  this  town  doesn't  lose  its  head  and  go 
wild.  There  has  to  be  a  lot  of  common  sense  exercised. 
You  know  we  are  facing  a  real  panic.  It  may  not  last 
long,  but  while  it  does  it  will  be  bad.  Stocks  are  going 
to  drop  to-morrow  ten  or  fifteen  points  on  the  opening. 
The  banks  are  going  to  call  their  loans  unless  some  ar 
rangement  can  be  made  to  prevent  them.  No  one  man 
can  do  that.  It  will  have  to  be  a  combination  of  men. 
You  and  Mr.  Simpson  and  Mr.  Mollenhauer  might  do 
it — that  is,  you  could  if  you  would  persuade  the  big 
banking  people  to  combine  to  back  the  market.  There 
is  going  to  be  a  raid  on  local  street-railways.  Unless 
they  are  sustained  the  bottom  is  going  to  drop  out.  I 
have  always  known  that  you  were  long  on  those.  I 
thought  you  and  Mr.  Mollenhauer  and  some  of  the  others 
might  want  to  act.  If  you  don't  I  might  as  well  con 
fess  that  it  is  going  to  go  rather  hard  with  me.  I  am 
not  strong  enough  to  face  this  thing  alone." 

Cowperwood  looked  at  Butler,  meditating  on  how  he 
should  tell  the  whole  truth  in  regard  to  Stener. 

"Well,  now,  that's  pretty  bad,"  said  Butler,  calmly  and 
meditatively.  He  was  thinking  of  how  his  own  affairs 
stood  exactly.  A  panic  was  not  good  for  him  either — 
meant  considerable  trouble  for  him,  but  he  was  not  in  a 
desperate  state.  He  could  not  fail.  He  might  lose  some 
money,  but  not  a  vast  amount — before  he  could  adjust 
things.  Still  he  did  not  care  to  lose  any  money. 

"How  is  it  you're  so  bad  off?"  he  asked,  curiously. 
He  was  wondering  how  the  fact  that  the  bottom  was 

305 


THE    FINANCIER 

going  to  drop  out  of  local  street-railways  would  affect 
Cowperwood  so  seriously.  "You're  not  carryin'  any  of 
them  things,  are  you?"  he  added. 

It  was  now  a  question  of  lying  or  telling  the  truth,  and 
Cowperwood  was  literally  afraid  to  risk  lying  in  this 
dilemma.  If  he  did  not  gain  Butler's  comprehending 
support  he  might  fail,  and  if  he  failed  the  truth  would 
come  out,  anyhow. 

"  I  might  as  well  make  a  clean  breast  of  this,  Mr.  Butler, " 
he  said,  throwing  himself  on  the  old  man's  sympathies 
and  looking  at  him  with  that  brisk  assurance  which 
Butler  so  greatly  admired  in  him.  He  felt  as  proud  of 
Cowperwood  at  times  as  he  did  of  his  own  sons.  He  felt 
that  he  had  helped  to  put  him  where  he  was. 

"The  fact  is  that  I  have  been  buying  street-railway 
stocks,  but  not  for  myself  exactly.  I  am  going  to  do  some 
thing  now  which  I  think  I  ought  not  to  do,  but  I  cannot 
help  myself.  If  I  don't  do  it,  it  will  be  to  injure  you  and 
a  lot  of  people  whom  I  do  not  wish  to  injure.  I  know  you 
are  naturally  interested  in  the  outcome  of  the  fall  election. 
The  truth  is  I  have  been  carrying  a  lot  of  stocks  for  Mr. 
Stener  and  some  of  his  friends.  I  do  not  know  that  all 
the  money  has  come  from  the  city  treasury,  but  I  think 
that  most  of  it  has.  I  know  what  that  means  to  Mr. 
Stener  and  the  Republican  party  and  your  interests  in 
case  I  fail.  I  don't  think  Mr.  Stener  started  this  of  his 
own  accord  in  the  first  place — I  think  I  am  as  much  to 
blame  as  anybody — but  it  grew  out  of  other  things.  As 
you  know,  I  handled  that  matter  of  city  loan  for  him  and 
then  some  of  his  friends  wanted  me  to  invest  in  street- 
railways  for  them.  I  have  been  doing  that  ever  since. 
Personally  I  have  borrowed  considerable  money  from  Mr. 
Stener  at  two  per  cent.  In  fact,  originally  the  transac 
tions  were  covered  in  that  way.  Now  I  don't  want  to 
shoulder  the  blame  on  any  one.  It  comes  back  to  me  and 
I  am  willing  to  let  it  stay  there,  except  that  if  I  fail  Mr. 
Stener  will  be  blamed  and  that  will  reflect  on  the  adminis- 

306 


THE    FINANCIER 

tration.  Naturally,  I  don't  want  to  fail.  There  is  no 
excuse  for  my  doing  so.  Aside  from  this  panic  I  have 
never  been  in  a  better  position  in  my  life.  But  I  cannot 
weather  this  storm  without  assistance,  and  I  want  to 
know  if  you  won't  help  me.  If  I  pull  through  I  will  give 
you  my  word  that  I  will  see  that  the  money  which  has 
been  taken  from  the  treasury  is  put  back  there.  Mr. 
Stener  is  out  of  town  or  I  would  have  brought  him  here 
with  me." 

Cowperwood  was  lying  out  of  the  whole  cloth  in  regard 
to  bringing  Stener  with  him,  and  he  had  no  intention  of 
putting  the  money  back  in  the  city  treasury  except  by 
degrees  and  in  such  manner  as  suited  his  convenience; 
but  what  he  had  said  sounded  well  and  created  a  great 
seeming  of  fairness. 

"How  much  money  is  it  Stener  has  invested  with  you?" 
asked  Butler.  He  was  a  little  confused  by  this  curious 
development.  It  put  Cowperwood  and  Stener  in  an  odd 
light. 

"About  five  hundred  thousand  dollars,"  replied  Cow 
perwood. 

The  old  man  straightened  up.  '  *  Is  it  as  much  as  that  ?" 
he  said. 

"Just  about — a  little  more  or  a  little  less;  I'm  not  sure 
which." 

The  old  contractor  listened  solemnly  to  all  that  Cow 
perwood  had  to  say  on  this  score,  thinking  of  the  effect  on 
the  Republican  party  and  his  own  contracting  interests. 
He  liked  Cowperwood,  but  this  was  a  rough  thing  the 
latter  was  telling  him — rough,  and  a  great  deal  to  ask. 
He  was  a  slow-thinking  and  a  slow-moving  man,  but  he  did 
well  enough  when  he  did  think.  He  had  considerable 
money  invested  in  Philadelphia  street-railway  stocks — 
perhaps  as  much  as  eight  hundred  thousand  dollars. 
Mr.  Mollenhauer  had  perhaps  as  much  more.  He  did 
not  know  that,  but  he  had  heard  rumors  to  that  effect. 
Whether  the  interesting  Senator  Simpson  had  much  or 

307 


THE    FINANCIER 

little  he  could  not  tell.  Cowperwood  had  told  him  in 
the  past  that  he  thought  the  Senator  had  a  good  deal. 
Most  of  their  holdings,  as  in  the  case  of  Cowperwood's, 
were  hypothecated  at  the  various  banks  for  loans  and 
these  loans  invested  in  other  ways.  It  was  not  advisable 
or  comfortable  to  have  these  loans  called,  though  the 
condition  of  no  one  «f  the  triumvirate  was  anything  like 
as  bad  as  that  of  Cowperwood.  They  could  see  them 
selves  through  without  much  trouble,  though  not  without 
probable  loss  unless  they  took  hurried  action  to  protect 
themselves. 

The  thing  that  interested  Butler  most  at  this  time  was 
this  matter  of  Stener.  He  had  not  heard  much  about 
Stener's  doings  since  the  time  when  the  city  loan  issue 
was  turned  over  to  Cowperwood,  but  he  fancied  he  was 
getting  along  well  enough.  These  small-fry  politicians, 
quite  like  the  large  ones,  were  always  getting  up  some 
little  scheme  in  one  way  and  another,  to  make  some  money. 
They  had  to  be  watched  right  along  to  see  that  their 
schemes  did  not  become  too  ambitious,  or  their  plottings 
infringe  on  the  perquisites  of  the  big  politicians  or  injure 
the  party,  but  beyond  that  nothing  was  thought  about 
it.  He  would  not  have  thought  so  much  of  it  if  Cowper 
wood  had  told  him  that  Stener  was  involved,  say,  to  the 
extent  of  seventy-five  or  a  hundred  thousand  dollars. 
That  might  be  adjusted.  But  five  hundred  thousand 
dollars ! 

"That's  a  lot  of  money,"  said  Butler,  thinking  of  the 
amazing  audacity  of  Stener,  but  failing  at  the  moment  to 
identify  it  with  the  astute  machinations  of  Cowperwood. 
Cowperwood  had  always  seemed  so  conservative  in  his 
plannings.  It  must  be  others  behind  Stener. 

"Well,  now,  that's  something  to  think  about,"  he  said. 
"There's  no  time  to  lose  if  there's  going  to  be  a  panic  in 
the  morning.  How  much  good  will  it  do  ye  if  we  did 
support  the  market?" 

"A  great  deal,"  returned  Cowperwood,  "although  of 

308 


THE    FINANCIER 

course  I  have  to  raise  money  in  other  ways.  I  have  that 
one  hundred  thousand  dollars  of  yours  on  deposit.  Is 
it  likely  that  you'll  want  that  right  away?" 

"It  may  be,"  said  Butler. 

"  It's  just  as  likely  that  I'll  need  it  so  badly  that  I  can't 
give  it  up  without  seriously  injuring  myself,"  added 
Cowperwood.  "That's  just  one  of  a  lot  of  things.  If 
you  and  Senator  Simpson  and  Mr.  Mollenhauer  were  to 
get  together — you're  the  largest  holders  of  street-railway 
stocks — and  were  to  see  Mr.  Drexel  and  Mr.  Cooke,  you 
could  fix  things  so  that  matters  would  be  considerably 
easier.  I  will  be  all  right  if  my  loans  are  not  called,  and 
my  loans  will  not  be  called  if  the  market  does  not  slump 
too  heavily.  If  it  does,  all  my  securities  are  depreciated, 
and  I  can't  hold  out." 

Old  Butler  got  up.  "This  is  serious  business,"  he  said. 
"I  wish  you'd  never  gone  in  with  Stener  in  that  way. 
It's  bad  business.  Still,  I'll  do  what  I  can.  I  can't 
promise  much.  I'm  not  the  only  one  that  has  a  hand  in 
things  in  this  town."  He  was  thinking  it  was  right  de 
cent  of  Cowperwood  to  forewarn  him  this  way  in  regard 
to  his  own  affairs  and  the  city  election,  even  though  he 
was  saving  his  own  neck  by  so  doing.  He  meant  to  do 
what  he  could. 

"I  don't  suppose  you  could  keep  this  matter  of  Stener 
and  the  city  treasury  quiet  for  a  day  or  two  until  I  see  how 
I  come  out?"  suggested  Cowperwood,  warily. 

"I  can't  promise  that,"  replied  Butler.  "I'll  have  to 
do  the  best  I  can.  I  won't  lave  it  go  any  further  than  I 
can  help — you  can  depend  on  that."  He  was  thinking 
how  the  effect  of  Stener 's  crime  could  be  overcome  if 
Cowperwood  failed. 

"Owen!" 

He  stepped  to  the  door,  and,  opening  it,  called  down 
over  the  banister. 

"Yes,  father." 

"Have  Dan  hitch  up  the  light  buggy  and  bring  it 
309 


THE    FINANCIER 

around  to  the  door.  And  you  get  your  hat  and  coat. 
I  want  you  to  go  along  with  me." 

"Yes,  father." 

He  came  back. 

"Sure  that's  a  nice  little  storm  in  a  teapot,  now,  isn't 
it?  Chicago  begins  to  burn,  and  I  have  to  worry  here  in 
Philadelphia.  Well,  well — "  Cowperwood  was  up  now 
and  moving  to  the  door.  "And  where  are  you  going?" 

"Back  to  the  house.  I  have  several  people  coming 
there  to  see  me." 

"Well,  good  night.  I'll  see  you  later,  then,  I  suppose. 
I'll  tell  you  what  I  find  out."  " 

He  went  back  in  his  room  for  something,  and  Cowper 
wood  descended  the  stair  alone.  From  the  hangings  of 
the  reception-room  entryway  Aileen  signaled  him  silently 
to  draw  near. 

"I  hope  it's  nothing  serious,  honey?"  she  questioned, 
looking  into  his  solemn  eyes. 

It  was  not  time  for  love,  and  he  felt  it. 

"No,"  he  said,  almost  coldly,  "I  think  not." 

"Frank,  don't  let  this  thing  make  you  forget  me  for 
long,  please.  I  love  you  so." 

"I  won't!  I  can't!  Don't  you  know  I  won't?"  He 
had  started  to  kiss  her,  but  a  noise  disturbed  him.  "  'Sh!" 

He  walked  to  the  door,  and  she  followed  him  with 
eager,  sympathetic  eyes. 

What  if  anything  should  happen  to  her  Frank  ?  What  if 
anything  could?  What  would  she  do?  That  was  what 
was  troubling  her.  What  would,  what  could  she  do  to 
help  him? 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

THE  condition  of  the  Republican  party  at  this  time  in 
Philadelphia,  its  relationship  to  George  W.  Stener, 
Edward  Malia  Butler,  Henry  A.  Mollenhauer,  Senator 
Mark  Simpson,  and  others,  will  have  to  be  briefly  in 
dicated  here,  in  order  to  foreshadow  Cowperwood's  actual 
situation.  Butler,  as  we  have  seen,  was  normally  in 
terested  in  and  friendly  to  Cowperwood.  George 
W.  Stener  was  Cowperwood's  tool.  Henry  A.  Mollen 
hauer  and  Senator  Simpson  were  strong  rivals  of  Butler 
in  the  control  of  city  affairs.  Mr.  Simpson  represented 
the  Republican  control  of  the  State  legislature,  which 
could  dictate  to  the  city  if  necessary,  making  new  elec 
tion  laws,  revising  the  city  charter,  starting  political  in 
vestigations,  and  the  like.  He  had  many  influential 
newspapers,  corporations,  banks,  and  the  like  at  his  beck 
and  call.  Mr.  Mollenhauer  represented  the  Germans, 
some  Americans,  and  some  large  stable  corporations — a 
very  solid  and  respectable  man.  All  three  were  strong, 
able,  and  dangerous  politically.  The  two  latter  counted 
on  Butler's  influence,  particularly  with  the  Irish,  and  a 
certain  number  of  ward  leaders  and  Catholic  politicians 
and  laymen,  who  were  as  loyal  to  him  as  though  he  were 
a  part  of  the  church  itself.  Butler's  return  to  these  fol 
lowers  was  protection,  influence,  aid,  and  good-will  gen 
erally.  The  city's  return  to  him,  ma  Mollenhauer  and 
Simpson,  was  contracts — fat  ones — street-paving,  bridges, 
viaducts,  sewers.  And  in  order  for  him  to  get  these 
contracts  the  affairs  of  the  Republican  party,  of  which 
he  was  a  beneficiary  as  well  as  a  leader,  must  be  kept 
reasonably  straight.  At  the  same  time  it  was  no  more 


THE    FINANCIER 

a  part  of  his  need  to  keep  the  affairs  of  the  party  straight 
than  it  was  of  either  Mollenhauer's  or  Simpson's,  and 
Stener  was  not  his  appointee.  The  latter  was  more 
directly  responsible  to  Mollenhauer  than  to  any  one  else. 

As  Butler  stepped  into  the  vehicle  with  Owen  he  was 
thinking  about  this,  and  it  was  puzzling  him  greatly. 

"Cowperwood's  just  been  here,"  he  said  to  his  son  Owen, 
who  had  been  rapidly  coming  into  a  sound  financial 
understanding  of  late,  and  was  already  a  shrewder  man 
politically  and  socially  than  his  father,  though  he  had  not 
the  latter's  political  and  social  magnetism.  "He's  been 
tellin'  me  that  he's  in  a  rather  tight  place,"  confided 
Butler,  solemnly.  "You  hear  that?"  he  indicated,  as 
some  voice  in  the  distance  was  calling  "Extra!  Extra!" 
"That's  Chicago  burnin',  and  there's  goin'  to  be  trouble 
on  the  stock  exchange  to-morrow.  We  have  a  lot  of  our 
street-railway  stocks  around  at  the  different  banks.  If 
we  don't  look  sharp  they'll  be  callin'  our  loans.  We  have 
to  'tend  to  that  the  first  thing  in  the  mornin'.  Cowper- 
wood  has  a  hundred  thousand  of  mine  with  him  that  he 
wants  me  to  let  stay  there,  and  he  has  some  money  that 
belongs  to  Stener,  he  tells  me." 

Butler  did  not  care  to  tell  Owen  at  once  what  he  knew 
about  the  condition  of  the  city  treasurer.  He  was  won 
dering  whether  he  should  tell  him. 

"Stener?"  asked  Owen,  curiously.  "Has  he  been 
dabbling  in  stocks?"  Owen  had  heard  some  rumors 
concerning  Stener  and  others  only  very  recently,  which 
he  had  not  credited  nor  yet  communicated  to  his  father. 
He  wondered  whether  there  was  any  truth  in  them,  or 
trouble  in  that  direction.  ' '  How  much  money  of  his  has 
Cowperwood?"  he  asked.  He  thought  of  warning  his 
father  in  case  he  did  not  know. 

Butler  meditated.  Owen  was  his  son  and  a  very  capable 
one.  He  could  be  trusted.  Why  shouldn't  he  tell  him? 
It  would  be  best  to  talk  the  whole  thing  over  with  him. 
"  Quite  a  bit,  I'm  afraid,"  he  finally  said.  "  As  a  matter  of 

3.12 


THE    FINANCIER 

fact,  it's  a  great  deal — about  five  hundred  thousand  dollars. 
If  that  should  become  known,  it  would  be  makin'  a  good 
deal  of  noise,  I'm  thinkin'." 

"Whew!"  exclaimed  Owen  in  astonishment.  "Five 
hundred  thousand  dollars!  Good  Lord,  father!  Do  you 
mean  to  say  Stener  has  got  away  with  five  hundred  thou 
sand  dollars?  He's  been  robbing  the  place  wholesale. 
Why,  I  wouldn't  say  he  was  clever  enough  to  do  that. 
Five  hundred  thousand  dollars!  It  will  make  a  nice  row 
if  that  comes  out." 

"Aisy,  now!  Aisy,  now!"  replied  Butler,  doing  his 
best  to  keep  all  phases  of  the  situation  in  mind.  "We 
can't  tell  exactly  what  the  circumstances  were  yet.  He 
mayn't  have  meant  to  take  so  much.  It  may  all  come  out 
all  right  yet.  The  money's  invested.  Cowperwood  hasn't 
failed  yet.  It  may  be  put  back.  The  thing  to  be  settled 
on  now  is  whether  anything  can  be  done  to  save  him. 
If  he's  tellin'  me  the  truth — and  I  never  knew  him  to  lie — 
he  can  get  out  of  this  if  street-railway  stocks  don't  break 
too  heavy  in  the  mornin'.  I'm  going  over  to  see  Henry 
Mollenhauer  and  Mark  Simpson.  They're  in  on  this. 
Cowperwood  wanted  to  see  if  I  couldn't  get  them  to  get 
the  bankers  together  and  to  help  stand  by  the  market. 
He  thought  we  might  protect  our  loans  by  comin'  on  and 
buyin'  and  holdin'  up  the  price." 

Owen  was  running  swiftly  in  his  mind  over  Cowper- 
wood's  affairs — as  much  as  he  knew  of  them.  He  felt 
keenly  that  the  banker  ought  to  be  shaken  out.  This 
dilemma  was  his  fault,  not  Stener's — he  felt.  It  was 
strange  to  him  that  his  father  did  not  see  it  and  resent  it. 

"You  see  what  it  is,  father,"  he  said,  dramatically, 
after  a  time.  He  had  been  thinking  of  what  he  had  heard 
recently  of  Cowperwood's  growing  street-railway  invest 
ments.  ' '  Cowperwood's  been  using  this  money  of  Stener's 
to  pick  up  stocks,  and  he's  in  a  hole.  If  it  hadn't  been 
for  this  fire  he'd  have  got  away  with  it;  but  now  he  wants 
you  and  Simpson  and  Mollenhauer  and  the  others  to  pull 

11  313 


THE    FINANCIER 

him  out.  He's  a  nice  fellow,  and  I  like  him  fairly  well; 
but  you're  a  fool  if  you  do.  He  has  more  than  belongs  to 
him  already.  I  heard  the  other  day  that  he  has  the  Front 
Street  line,  and  almost  all  of  Green  and  Coates;  and  that 
he  and  Stener  own  the  Seventeenth  and  Nineteenth; 
but  I  didn't  believe  it.  I've  been  intending  to  ask  you 
about  it.  I  think  Cowperwood  has  a  majority  for  him 
self  stowed  away  somewhere  in  every  instance.  Stener 
is  a  pawn.  He  moves  him  around  where  he  pleases.  I 
know  it.  It  must  be  so." 

Owen's  eyes  gleamed  avariciously,  opposingly.  Why 
should  his  father  help  Cowperwood  to  become  rich, 
when  he  might  just  as  well  let  him  sink  now  and  buy  up 
as  much  of  his  street-railway  holdings  as  he  could  ?  Cow 
perwood  was  a  crook.  He  had  led  Stener  on.  This 
condition  of  the  treasury  might  hurt  the  party  some,  but 
certainly  not  enough  to  warrant  his  father's  allowing  him 
self  to  be  used  as  a  catspaw.  Cowperwood  ought  to  be 
punished,  sold  out,  driven  out  of  the  street-railway  busi 
ness  in  which  Owen  was  anxious  to  rise. 

"Now  you  know,"  observed  Butler,  thickly  and  solemn 
ly,  "I  always  thought  that  young  felly  was  clever,  but  I 
hardly  thought  he  was  as  clever  as  all  that.  So  that's 
his  game.  You're  pretty  shrewd  yourself,  aren't  you? 
Well,  we  can  fix  that,  if  we  think  well  of  it.  The  thing 
that's  troublin'  me  is  this  matter  of  Stener  and  the  city 
treasury.  If  somethin'  isn't  done  about  that  it  may  go 
hard  with  the  party  this  fall,  and  with  some  of  our  con 
tracts.  You  don't  want  to  forget  that  an  election  is 
comin'  along  in  November.  If  Cowperwood  should  fail, 
and  that  money  couldn't  be  put  back — "  He  broke  off 
abstractedly.  "I'm  wonderin'  if  I  ought  to  call  in  that 
one  hundred  thousand  dollars.  It's  goin'  to  take  con 
siderable  money  to  meet  my  loans  in  the  mornin'." 

It  is  a  curious  matter  of  psychology,  but  it  was  only  now 
that  the  real  difficulties  of  the  situation  were  beginning 
to  dawn  on  Butler.  In  the  presence  of  Cowperwood  he 


THE    FINANCIER 

was  so  influenced  by  that  young  man's  personality  and 
his  magnetic  presentation  of  his  need  and  his  own  liking 
for  him  that  he  had  not  stopped  to  consider  all  the  phases 
of  his  own  relationship  to  the  situation.  Out  here  in  the 
cool  night  air,  talking  to  Owen,  who  was  ambitious  on  his 
own  account  and  anything  but  sentimentally  considerate 
of  Cowperwood,  he  was  beginning  to  sober  down  and 
see  things  in  their  true  light.  He  had  to  admit  that  Cow 
perwood  had  seriously  compromised  the  city  treasury 
and  the  Republican  party,  and  incidentally  Butler's  own 
private  interests.  Nevertheless,  he  liked  Cowperwood. 
He  was  in  no  way  prepared  to  desert  him.  He  was  now 
going  to  see  Mollenhauer  and  Simpson  as  much  to  save 
the  party  and  his  own  affairs  and  a  scandal  as  anything, 
but  also  with  the  kindly  feeling  that  he  ought  to  do  some 
thing  to  help  the  young  man,  if  anything  could  help  him. 
He  might  even  leave  his  hundred-thousand-dollar  loan 
with  him  until  the  last  hour,  as  Cowperwood  had  re 
quested,  if  the  others  were  friendly. 

"Well,  father,"  said  Owen,  after  a  time,  "I  don't  see 
why  you  need  to  worry  any  more  than  Mollenhauer  or 
Simpson.  If  you  three  want  to  help  him  out,  you  can; 
but  for  the  life  of  me  I  don't  see  why  you  should.  I  know 
this  thing  will  have  a  bad  effect  on  the  election,  if  it  comes 
out  before  then;  but  I  can't  see  that  it  needs  to,  exactly. 
It  could  be  hushed  up  until  then.  Anyhow,  your  street- 
railway  holdings  are  more  important  than  this  election, 
and  if  you  can  see  your  way  clear  to  getting  the  street- 
railway  lines  in  your  hands  you  won't  need  to  worry  about 
any  elections.  My  advice  to  you  is  to  call  that  one- 
hundred-thousand-dollar  loan  of  yours  in  the  morning, 
and  meet  the  drop  in  your  street-railway  stocks  that 
way.  It  may  make  Cowperwood  fail,  but  that  won't 
hurt  you  any.  You  can  go  into  the  market  and  buy  his 
stocks.  I  wouldn't  be  surprised  if  he  would  run  to  you 
and  ask  you  to  take  them.  You  ought  to  get  Mollen 
hauer  and  Simpson  to  scare  Stener  so  that  he  won't  loan 


THE    FINANCIER 

Cowperwood  any  more  money.  If  you  don't,  Cowperwood 
will  run  there  and  get  more.  Stener's  in  too  far  now.  If 
Cowperwood  won't  sell  out,  well  and  good;  the  chances  are 
he  will  bust,  anyhow,  and  then  you  can  pick  up  as  much  on 
the  market  as  any  one  else.  I  think  he'll  sell.  You  can't 
afford  to  worry  about  Stener's  five  hundred  thousand 
dollars.  No  one  told  him  to  loan  it.  Let  him  look  out 
for  himself.  It  may  hurt  the  party,  but  you  can  look 
after  that  later.  You  and  Mollenhauer  can  fix  the  news 
papers  so  they  won't  talk  about  it  till  after  election." 

Butler's  canny  son  paused  and  stared  out  into  the 
dark.  He  was  thinking  how  long  Cowperwood  had  been 
a  favorite  of  his  father,  and  that  it  was  high  time  that  the 
latter's  sons  took  his  place.  Owen  was  ambitious  to 
become  a  factor  in  the  street-railway  world  himself,  and 
this  was  an  easy  way  to  do  it.  Butler  was  thinking 
whether  he  wanted  to  be  so  hard  on  his  former  lieutenant 
or  not. 

"Aisy!  Aisy!"  was  all  the  old  contractor  would  say. 
He  was  thinking  hard. 

The  residence  of  Mr.  Henry  A.  Mollenhauer  was  located, 
at  that  time,  in  a  section  of  the  city  which  was  not  quite 
though  almost  as  new  as  that  in  .which  Mr.  Butler  was 
living.  It  was  in  South  Broad  Street,  near  a  handsome 
library  building  which  had  been  recently  erected.  It  was 
a  spacious  house  of  the  type  ordinarily  affected  by  men 
of  new  wealth  in  those  days — a  structure  four  stories  in 
height  of  yellow  brick  and  white  stone,  built  after  no 
school  which  one  could  readily  identify,  but  not  unattrac 
tive  in  its  architectural  composition.  A  broad  flight  of 
steps  leading  to  a  wide  veranda  gave  into  a  decidedly 
ornate  door,  which  was  set  on  either  side  by  narrow  win 
dows  and  ornamented  to  the  right  and  left  with  pale- 
blue  jardinieres  of  considerable  charm  of  outline.  The 
interior,  divided  into  twenty  rooms,  was  paneled  and 
parqueted  in  the  most  expensive  manner  for  homes  of 

316 


THE    FINANCIER 

that  time.  There  was  a  great  reception-hall,  a  large 
parlor  or  drawing-room,  a  dining-room  at  least  thirty 
feet  square  paneled  in  oak;  and  on  the  second  floor 
were  a  music-room  devoted  to  the  talents  of  Mollen- 
hauer's  three  ambitious  daughters,  a  library  and  private 
office  for  himself,  a  boudoir  and  distinguished  bath  for 
his  wife,  and  a  conservatory. 

Mr.  Mollenhauer  was,  and  felt  himself  to  be,  a  very 
important  man.  His  financial  and  political  judgment 
was  exceedingly  keen.  Although  he  was  a  German,  or 
rather  an  American  by  German  parentage,  he  was  a  man 
of  rather  notable  American  presence.  He  was  tall  and 
heavy  and  shrewd  and  cold.  His  large  chest  and  wide 
shoulders  supported  a  head  of  distinguished  proportions, 
both  round  and  long  when  seen  from  different  angles. 
The  frontal  bone  descended  in  a  protruding  curve  over 
the  nose,  and  projected  solemnly  over  the  eyes.  The 
latter  burned  with  a  shrewd,  inquiring  gaze.  And  the 
nose  and  mouth  and  chin  below,  as  well  as  his  smooth, 
hard  cheeks,  confirmed  the  impression  that  he  knew 
very  well  what  he  wished  in  this  world,  and  was 
very  able  without  regard  to  let  or  hindrance  to  get  it. 
It  was  a  big  face,  impressive,  well  modeled.  He  was  an 
excellent  friend  of  Edward  Malia  Butler's,  as  such  friend 
ships  go,  and  his  regard  for  Mark  Simpson  was  as  sincere 
as  that  of  one  tiger  for  another.  He  respected  ability; 
he  was  willing  to  play  fair  when  |fair  was  the  game. 
When  it  was  not,  the  reach  of  his  cunning  was  not 
easily  measured. 

When  Edward  Butler  and  his  son  arrived  on  this  Sun 
day  evening,  this  distinguished  representative  of  one-third 
of  the  city's  interests  was  not  expecting  them.  He  was 
in  his  library  reading  and  listening  to  one  of  his  daughters 
playing.  His  wife  and  the  other  two  girls,  which  con 
stituted  his  complete  menage,  had  gone  to  church.  He 
was  of  a  domestic  turn  of  mind.  Still,  Sunday  evening 
being  an  excellent  one  for  conference  purposes  generally 

31? 


THE    FINANCIER 

in  the  world  of  politics,  he  was  not  without  the  thought 
that  some  one  or  other  of  his  distinguished  confreres 
might  call.  His  was  not  the  sort  of  mind  that  antici 
pates  calamitous  developments  of  any  kind;  and  when 
they  did  occur  he  was  not  disposed  to  be  very  much 
disturbed  by  them.  A  few  minutes  before  Butler  was 
announced  he  was  thinking  that  he  would  like  to  look 
in  on  him  some  day  soon,  as  the  local  political  slate  for 
the  coming  election,  which  had  been  agreed  on  between 
them  and  chosen  some  time  before,  needed  further  dis 
cussion.  Simpson  had  been  to  his  office  a  few  days  be 
fore  on  this  same  business,  and  had  said  then  that  he 
might  call  round  this  Sunday  evening.  In  all  ways  Mr. 
Mollenhauer  was  in  a  pleasant  and  amicable  frame  of  mind 
this  evening;  and  when  the  combination  footman  and 
butler,  who  answered  the  bell  regularly,  announced  the 
presence  of  Edward  Malia  Butler  and  his  son,  he  was  well 
pleased. 

"So  there  you  are,"  he  remarked  to  Butler,  genially, 
when  the  later  was  shown  up,  and  extending  his  hand. 
"I'm  certainly  glad  to  see  you.  And  Owen !  How  are  you, 
Owen?  What  will  you  gentlemen  have  to  drink,  and 
what  will  you  smoke?  I  know  you'll  have  something. 
John" — to  the  servitor — "see  if  you  can  find  something 
for  these  gentlemen.  I  have  just  been  listening  to  my 
daughter  Caroline  play;  but  I  think  you've  frightened 
her  off  for  the  time  being." 

He  moved  a  chair  which  was  near  by  into  position  for 
Butler,  and  indicated  to  Owen  another  on  the  other 
side  of  the  table.  In  a  moment  his  servant  had  re 
turned  with  a  silver  tray  of  elaborate  design,  carrying 
whiskies  and  wines  of  various  dates  and  cigars  in  pro 
fusion.  Owen  was  the  new  type  of  young  financier  who 
neither  smoked  nor  drank.  His  father  in  a  mild  way 
did  both. 

"It's  a  comfortable  place  you  have  here,"  said  Butler, 
without  any  indication  of  the  important  mission  that  had 


THE    FINANCIER 

brought  him.  "I  don't  wonder  you  stay  at  home  Sun 
day  evenings.  What's  new  in  the  city?" 

"Nothing  much,  so  far  as  I  can  see,"  replied  Mollen- 
hauer,  pacifically.  ''Things  seem  to  be  running  smooth 
enough.  You  don't  know  anything  that  we  ought  to 
worry  about,  do  you?" 

"Well,  yes,"  said  Butler,  draining  off  the  remainder  of 
a  brandy  and  soda  that  had  been  prepared  for  him. 
"One  thing.  You  haven't  seen  an  avenin'  paper,  have 
you?" 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Mollenhauer,  straightening  up.  "Is 
there  one  out?  What's  the  trouble,  anyhow?" 

"Nothing — except  Chicago's  burning,  and  it  looks  as 
though  we'd  have  a  little  money-storm  here  in  the  morn 
ing." 

"You  don't  say!  I  didn't  hear  that.  There's  a  paper 
out,  is  there?  Well,  well — is  it  much  of  a  fire?" 

"The  city  is  burning  down,  so  they  say,"  put  in  Owen, 
who  was  watching  the  face  of  the  distinguished  politician 
with  considerable  interest. 

"Well,  that  is  news.  I  must  send  out  and  get  a  paper. 
John!"  he  called.  His  man-servant  appeared.  "See  if 
you  can  get  me  a  paper  somewhere."  The  servant  dis 
appeared.  "What  makes  you  think  that  would  have 
anything  to  do  with  us?"  observed  Mollenhauer,  re 
turning  to  Butler. 

"Well,  there's  one  thing  that  goes  with  it  that  I  didn't 
know  till  a  little  while  ago.  Our  man  Stener  is  apt  to  be 
short  in  his  accounts,  I  hear,  unless  things  come  out 
better  than  some  people  seem  to  think,"  suggested  Butler, 
calmly.  "That  might  not  look  so  well  before  election, 
would  you  say?" 

Mollenhauer  eyed  him  searchingly. 

"Where  did  you  get  that?"  he  said.  "He  hasn't  de 
liberately  taken  much  money,  has  he?  How  much  has 
he  taken — do  you  know?" 

"Quite  a  bit,"  replied  Butler,  quietly.     "Nearly  five 


THE    FINANCIER 

hundred  thousand,  so  I  understand.  Only  I  wouldn't 
say  that  it  has  been  taken  as  yet.  It's  in  danger  of  being 
lost." 

"Five  hundred  thousand!"  exclaimed  Mollenhauer  in 
amazement,  and  yet  preserving  his  usual  calm.  "You 
don't  tell  me!  How  long  has  this  been  going  on?  What 
has  he  been  doing  with  the  money?" 

"  He's  loaned  a  good  deal — about  five  hundred  thousand 
dollars  to  this  young  Cowperwood  in  Third  Street,  that's 
been  handlin'  city  loan.  They've  been  investin'  it  for 
themselves  in  one  thing  and  another — mostly  in  buyin' 
up  street-railways."  (At  the  mention  of  street-railways 
Mollenhauer 's  impassive  countenance  underwent  a  barely 
perceptible  change.)  "  This  fire,  accordin'  to  Cowperwood, 
is  certain  to  produce  a  panic  in  the  mornin',  and  unless  he 
gets  considerable  help  he  doesn't  see  how  he's  to  hold  out. 
If  he  doesn't  hold  out,  there'll  be  five  hundred  thousand 
dollars  missin'  from  the  city  treasury  which  can't  be  put 
back.  Stener's  out  of  town  and  Cowperwood's  come  to 
me  to  see  what  can  be  done  about  it.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
he's  done  a  little  business  for  me  in  times  past,  and  he 
thought  maybe  I  could  help  him  now  —  that  is,  that  I 
might  get  you  and  the  Senator  to  see  the  big  bankers 
with  me  and  help  support  the  market  in  the  mornin'. 
If  we  don't  he's  goin'  to  fail,  and  he  thought  the  scandal 
would  hurt  us  in  the  election.  He  doesn't  appear  to  me 
to  be  workin'  any  game — just  anxious  to  save  himself 
and  do  the  square  thing  by  me — by  us,  if  he  can."  Butler 
paused. 

Mr.  Mollenhauer  was  quite  astonished  at  this  unex 
pected  development.  He  had  never  thought  of  Stener 
as  having  any  particular  executive  or  financial  ability. 
Cowperwood  he  knew  of  indirectly.  He  had  profited  by 
his  manipulation  of  city  loan.  Evidently  the  banker  had 
made  a  fool  of  Stener,  and  had  used  the  money  for  street- 
railway  shares!  He  and  Stener  must  have  quite  some 
private  holdings.  That  interested  Mollenhauer  greatly. 

320 


THE    FINANCIER 

"Five  hundred  thousand  dollars!"  he  repeated,  when 
Butler  had  finished.  "That  is  quite  a  little  money.  If 
merely  supporting  the  market  would  save  Cowperwood  we 
might  do  that,  although  if  it's  a  severe  panic  I  do  not 
see  how  anything  we  can  do  will  be  of  very  much  assist 
ance  to  him.  If  he's  in  a  very  tight  place  and  a  severe 
slump  is  coming,  it  will  take  a  great  deal  more  than  our 
merely  supporting  the  market  to  save  him.  I've  been 
through  that  before.  You  don't  know  what  his  liabilities 
are?" 

"I  do  not,"  said  Butler. 

"He  didn't  ask  for  money,  you  say?" 

"He  wants  me  to  1'ave  a  hundred  thousand  he  has  of 
mine  until  he  sees  whether  he  can  get  through  or  not." 

"  Mr.  Stener  is  really  out  of  town,  I  suppose  ?"  Mollen- 
hauer  was  innately  suspicious. 

"So  Cowperwood  says.     We  can  send  and  find  out." 

Mollenhauer  was  thinking  of  the  various  aspects  of  the 
case.  Supporting  the  market  would  be  all  very  well  if 
that  would  save  Cowperwood.  Stener  would  then  be 
compelled  to  restore  the  five  hundred  thousand  dollars  to 
the  city  treasury.  He  consulted  with  Butler  and  learned 
that  Cowperwood  had  agreed  to  do  this.  But  what 
assurance  had  any  one  that  Cowperwood  could  be  so 
saved?  And  if  he  were  saved  would  he  give  the  money 
back  to  Stener?  If  he  required  actual  money,  who  would 
loan  it  to  him  in  a  time  like  this — in  case  a  sharp  panic  was 
imminent?  What  security  could  he  give?  On  the  other 
hand,  under  pressure  from  the  right  parties  he  might  be 
made  to  surrender  all  his  street-railway  holdings  for  a 
song — his  and  Stener's.  If  he  (Mollenhauer)  could  get 
them  he  would  not  particularly  care  whether  the  election 
was  lost  this  fall  or  not,  although  he  felt  satisfied,  as  had 
Owen,  that  it  would  not  be  lost.  It  could  be  bought,  as 
usual.  The  defalcation — if  Cowperwood's  failure  made 
Stener's  loan  into  one — could  be  concealed  long  enough, 
Mollenhauer  thought,  to  win.  Personally  he  would  like 

321 


THE    FINANCIER 

to  have  time  to  frighten  Stener  into  refusing  Cowperwood 
additional  aid,  and  then  to  raid  the  latter's  street-railway 
stock  in  combination  with  everybody  else's,  for  that 
matter — Simpson's  and  Butler's  included.  One  of  the 
big  sources  of  future  wealth  in  Philadelphia  lay  in  these 
lines.  For  the  present,  however,  he  had  to  pretend  an 
interest  in  saving  the  party  at  the  polls. 

"I  can't  speak  for  the  Senator,  that's  sure,"  pursued 
Mr.  Mollenhauer,  reflectively.  "I  don't  know  what  he 
may  think.  As  for  myself,  I  will  be  perfectly  willing  to 
do  what  I  can  to  keep  up  the  price  of  stocks,  if  that  will 
do  any  good.  I  would  do  so  naturally  in  order  to  protect 
my  loans.  The  thing  that  we  ought  to  be  thinking  about, 
in  my  judgment,  is  how  to  prevent  exposure,  in  case  Mr. 
Cowperwood  does  fail,  until  after  election.  We  have  no 
assurance,  of  course,  that  however  much  we  support  the 
market  we  will  be  able  to  sustain  it." 

"We  have  not,"  replied  Butler,  solemnly. 

Owen  thought  he  could  see  Cowperwood's  approach 
ing  doom  quite  plainly.  At  that  moment  the  door-bell 
rang  again.  A  maid,  in  the  absence  of  the  footman, 
brought  in  the  name  of  Senator  Simpson. 

"Just  the  man,"  said  Mollenhauer.  "Show  him  up. 
You  can  see  what  he  thinks." 

"Perhaps  I  had  better  leave  you  alone  now,"  suggested 
Owen  to  his  father.  "Perhaps  I  can  find  Miss  Caroline, 
and  she  will  sing  for  me.  I'll  wait  for  you,  father,"  he 
added. 

Mollenhauer  cast  him  an  ingratiating  smile,  and  as 
he  stepped  out  Senator  Simpson  walked  in. 

A  more  interesting  type  of  his  kind  than  Senator  Mark 
Simpson  never  flourished  in  the  State  of  Pennsylvania, 
which  has  been  productive  of  interesting  types.  Con 
trasted  with  either  of  the  two  men  who  now  greeted  him 
warmly  and  shook  his  hand,  he  was  not  so  impressive, 
physically  speaking.  His  body  was  not  so  large  as  Mol- 
lenhauer's,  nor  so  rotund  as  Butler's.  He  did  not  possess 

322 


THE    FINANCIER 

the  chest  expansion  of  either,  nor  did  he  convey  the  sense  of 
ruddy  blood  which  was  obvious  in  the  others.  By  com 
parison  he  was  rather  a  small  man — five  feet  nine  inches, 
to  Mollenhauer's  six  feet  and  Butler's  five  feet  eleven 
inches  and  a  half.  His  face  was  smooth,  with  a  receding 
jaw,  which  was  not  as  impressive  as  this  pugnacious  fea 
ture  in  the  other  two.  His  eyes  were  not  as  frank  as  those 
of  Mr.  Butler,  nor  as  defiant  as  those  of  Mr.  Mollenhauer ; 
but  for  subtlety  they  were  unmatched  by  either — deep, 
strange,  receding,  cavernous  eyes  which  contemplated  you 
as  might  those  of  a  cat  looking  out  of  a  dark  hole,  and  sug 
gestive  of  all  the  artfulness  that  ever  distinguished  the 
feline  family.  He  had  a  strange  mop  of  black  hair  sweep 
ing  down  over  a  fine,  low,  white  forehead,  and  a  skin  as 
pale  and  bluish  as  poor  health  might  make  it ;  but  there 
was,  nevertheless,  resident  here  a  strange,  resistant,  capa 
ble  force  that  ruled  men  by  the  force  of  political  ideas 
— the  subtlety  with  which  he  knew  how  to  feed  cupidity 
with  hope  and  gain  and  the  ruthlessness  with  which  he 
repaid  those  who  said*  him  nay.  He  was  a  still  man,  as 
such  a  man  might  well  have  been — feeble  and  fish-like 
in  his  hand-shake,  wan  and  slightly  lackadaisical  in  his 
smile,  but  speaking  always  with  eyes  that  answered  for 
every  defect.  Mr.  Mollenhauer  had  the  profoundest 
respect  for  him;  and  he  was  a  strong  man,  from  whom 
only  strong  men  could  win  acknowledgment.  Butler 
scarcely  understood  him,  but  realized  that  he  was  power 
ful,  and  in  a  close  political  game  could  be  thoroughly  re 
lied  upon.  Butler  knew  that  his  own  sincerity  was  ap 
preciated  by  Simpson,  and  Simpson  believed  that  Butler 
was  well  worth  while  in  a  city  which  was  honored  by  the 
presence  of  Mr.  Mollenhauer. 

"Av'nin',  Mark,   I'm  glad  to  see  you,"  was  Butler's 
greeting. 

"How  are  you,  Edward?"  came  the  quiet  reply. 

"Well,  Senator,  you're  not  looking  any  the  worse  for 
wear.     Can  I  pour  you  something?" 

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THE    FINANCIER 

" Nothing  to-night,  Henry,"  replied  Simpson.  "I 
haven't  long  to  stay.  I  just  stopped  by  on  my  way  home. 
My  wife's  over  here  at  the  Cavanagh's,  and  I  have  to 
stop  by  to  fetch  her."  He  was  referring  to  the  family 
of  a  steam-railway  manipulator  of  great  distinction. 

"Well,  it's  a  good  thing  you  dropped  in,  Senator,  just 
when  you  did,"  began  Mollenhauer,  seating  himself  after 
his  guest.  "Butler  here  has  been  telling  me  of  a  little 
political  problem  that  has  arisen  since  I  last  saw  you.  I 
suppose  you've  heard  that  Chicago  is  burning?" 

"Yes;  Cavanagh  was  just  telling  me.  It  looks  to  be 
quite  serious.  I  think  the  market  will  drop  heavily  in 
the  morning." 

"I  wouldn't  be  surprised  myself,"  put  in  Mollenhauer, 
laconically. 

"Here's  the  paper  now,"  said  Butler,  as  John,  the  ser 
vant,  came  in  from  the  street  bearing  the  paper  in  his 
hand.  Mollenhauer  took  it  and  spread  it  out  before  them. 
It  was  among  the  earliest  of  the  extras  that  were  ever 
issued  in  this  country,  and  contained  a  rather  impressive 
spread  of  type  announcing  that  the  conflagration  in  the 
lake  city  was  growing  hourly  worse  since  its  inception  the 
day  before. 

"Well,  that  is  certainly  dreadful,"  said  Simpson.  "I'm 
very  sorry  for  Chicago.  I  have  many  friends  there.  I 
shall  hope  to  hear  that  it  is  not  so  bad  as  it  seems." 

The  man  had  a  rather  grandiloquent  manner  which  he 
never  in  his  later  years  abandoned  under  any  circum 
stances. 

"The  matter  that  Butler  was  telling  me  about,"  con 
tinued  Mollenhauer,  after  Simpson  had  ceased  to  scan 
the  head-lines  and  had  read  the  rather  disjointed  intel 
ligence  beneath  them,  "has  something  to  do  with  this  in  a 
way.  You  know  the  habit  our  city  treasurers  have  of 
loaning  out  their  money  at  two  per  cent.?" 

"Yes?"  said  Simpson,  inquiringly. 

"Well,  Mr.  Stener,  it  seems,  has  been  loaning  out  a 
324 


THE    FINANCIER 

good  deal  of  the  city's  money  to  this  young  Cowperwood, 
in  Third  Street,  who  has  been  handling  city  loan." 

"You  don't  say!"  said  Simpson,  putting  on  an  air  of 
surprise.  "Not  much,  I  hope?"  The  Senator,  like 
Butler  and  Mollenhauer,  was  profiting  greatly  by  cheap 
loans  from  the  various  designated  city  depositories. 

"Well,  it  seems  that  Stener  has  loaned  him  as  much 
as  five  hundred  thousand  dollars,  and  this  fire  threatens 
to  cause  a  panic  in  the  morning.  If  by  any  chance 
Cowperwood  shouldn't  be  able  to  weather  this  storm, 
Stener  is  apt  to  be  short  that  amount,  and  that  wouldn't 
look  so  good  as  a  voting  proposition  to  the  people  in 
November.  Mr.  Cowperwood  owes  Mr.  Butler  here  one 
hundred  thousand  dollars,  and  because  of  that  he  came 
to  see  him  to-night.  He  wanted  Butler  to  see  if  some 
thing  couldn't  be  done  through  us  to  tide  him  over.  If 
not" — he  waved  one  hand  suggestively — "well,  he  might 
fail." 

Mr.  Simpson  fingered  his  strange,  wide  mouth  with  his 
delicate  hand.  "What  have  they  been  doing  with  the 
five  hundred  thousand  dollars?"  he  asked. 

"Oh,  the  boys  must  make  a  little  somethin'  on  the 
side,"  said  Butler,  cheerfully.  "I  think  they've  been 
buyin'  up  street-railways,  for  one  thing."  He  stuck  his 
thumbs  in  the  armholes  of  his  vest.  Both  Mollenhauer 
and  Simpson  smiled  wan  smiles. 

"Quite  so,"  said  Mr.  Mollenhauer.  Senator  Simpson 
merely  looked  the  deep  things  that  he  thought. 

He,  too,  was  thinking  how  useless  it  was  for  any~one  to 
approach  a  group  of  politicians  with  a  proposition  like 
this,  particularly  in  a  crisis  such  as  bid  fair  to  occur. 
He  reflected  that  if  he  and  Butler  and  Mollenhauer  could 
get  together  and  promise  Cowperwood  protection  in  re 
turn  for  the  surrender  of  his  street-railway  holdings  it 
would  be  a  very  different  matter.  It  would  be  very  easy 
in  this  case  to  carry  the  city  treasury  loan  along  in  silence 
and  even  issue  more  money  to  support  it;  but  it  was  not 

325 


THE    FINANCIER 

sure,  in  the  first  place,  that  Cowperwood  could  be  made  to 
surrender  his  stocks,  and  in  the  second  place  that  either 
Butler  or  Mollenhauer  would  enter  into  any  such  deal 
with  him,  Simpson.  Essentially  Butler  was  a  fair  man. 
He  had  come  here  to  say  a  good  word  for  Cowperwood. 
Mollenhauer  and  Simpson  himself  were  silent  rivals.  Al 
though  they  worked  together  politically  it  was  toward 
essentially  different  financial  ends.  They  were  allied  in 
no  one  particular  financial  proposition,  any  more  than 
Simpson  and  Butler  were.  And  besides,  in  all  probability 
Cowperwood  was  no  fool.  He  was  not  guilty  with  Stener; 
the  latter  had  loaned  him  money.  The  Senator  reflected 
on  whether  he  should  broach  some  such  subtle  solution 
of  the  situation  as  had  occurred  to  him  to  his  colleagues, 
but  he  decided  not.  Really  Mollenhauer  was  too  treach 
erous  a  man  to  work  with  on  a  thing  of  this  kind.  It  was 
a  splendid  chance  but  dangerous.  He  had  better  go  it 
alone.  For  the  present  they  should  demand  of  Stener 
that  he  get  Cowperwood  to  return  the  five  hundred  thou 
sand  dollars  if  he  could.  If  not,  Stener  should  be  made  a 
sacrifice  of  for  the  benefit  of  the  party,  if  need  be.  Cow- 
perwood's  stocks,  with  this  tip  as  to  his  condition,  would, 
Simpson  reflected,  offer  a  good  opportunity  for  a  little 
stock-exchange  work  on  the  part  of  his  own  brokers. 
They  could  spread  rumors  as  to  Cowperwood's  condition 
and  then  offer  to  take  his  shares  off  his  hands — for  a  song, 
of  course.  It  was  an  evil  moment  that  led  Cowperwood 
to  Butler. 

"Well,  now,"  said  the  Senator,  after  a  prolonged  si 
lence,  "I  might  sympathize  with  Mr.  Cowperwood  in  his 
situation,  and  I  certainly  don't  blame  him  for  buying  up 
street-railways  if  he  can;  but  I  really  don't  see  what  can 
be  done  for  him  very  well  in  this  crisis.  I  don't  know 
about  you,  gentlemen,  but  I  am  rather  certain  that  I 
am  not  in  a  position  to  pick  other  people's  chestnuts  out 
of  the  fire  if  I  wanted  to,  just  now.  It  all  depends  on 
whether  we  feel  that  the  danger  to  the  party  is  sufficient 

326 


THE    FINANCIER 

to  warrant  our  going  down  into  our  pockets  and  assisting 
him." 

At  the  mention  of  real  money  to  be  loaned  Mr.  Mollen- 
hauer  pulled  a  long  face.  "  I  can't  see  that  I  will  be  able 
to  do  very  much  for  Mr.  Cowperwood,"  he  sighed. 

"Begad,"  said  Mr.  Butler,  with  a  keen  sense  of  humor, 
"it  looks  to  me  as  if  I'd  better  be  gettin'  in  my  one  hun 
dred  thousand  dollars.  That's  the  first  business  of  the 
early  mornin'." 

Neither  Mr.  Simpson  nor  Mr.  Mollenhauer  conde 
scended  on  this  occasion  to  smile  even  the  wan  smile  they 
had  smiled  before.  They  merely  looked  wise  and  solemn. 

"But  this  matter  of  the  city  treasury  now,"  said 
Senator  Simpson,  after  the  atmosphere  had  been  allowed 
to  settle  a  little,  "is  something  to  which  wTe  shall  have  to 
devote  a  little  thought.  If  Mr.  Cowperwood  should  fail, 
and  the  treasury  lose  that  much  money,  it  would  embarrass 
us  no  little.  What  lines  are  they,"  he  added,  as  an  after 
thought,  "that  this  man  has  been  particularly  interested 
in?" 

"I  really  don't  know,"  replied  Butler,  who  did  not  care 
to  say  what  Owen  had  told  him  on  the  drive  over.  The 
Senator  could  find  out  for  himself.  Mollenhauer  did  not 
even  condescend  to  reply. 

"I  don't  see,"  said  Mollenhauer,  "unless  we  can  make 
Mr.  Stener  get  the  money  back  before  this  man  Cowper 
wood  fails,  how  we  can  save  ourselves  from  considerable 
annoyance  later;  but  if  we  did  anything  which  would 
look  as  though  we  were  going  to  compel  restitution,  he 
would  probably  shut  up  shop  anyhow.  So  there's  no 
remedy  in  that  direction.  And  it  wouldn't  be  very  kind 
to  our  friend  Edward  here  to  do  it  until  we  hear  how  he 
comes  out  on  his  affair." 

He  was  referring  to  Butler's  loan. 

"Certainly  not,"  said  Senator  Simpson,  with  true  polit 
ical  sagacity  and  feeling. 

"I'll  have  that  one  hundred  thousand  dollars  in  the 
327 


THE    FINANCIER 

mornin',"  said  Butler,  "and  never  fear."  He  saw,  as 
far  as  that  was  concerned,  that  if  he  really  wished  to  be 
sure  of  his  money  he  had  better  call  his  loan  in  the  morn 
ing.  Whether  he  would  really  do  it  was,  even  at  this 
late  hour,  an  open  question.  Butler  was  not  unsym 
pathetic  in  his  attitude  toward  Cowperwood.  He  remem 
bered  with  pleasure  the  favors  he  had  done  the  young 
financier  in  earlier  days. 

"I  think,"  said  Simpson,  "if  anything  comes  of  this 
matter  that  we  will  have  to  do  our  best  to  hush  it  up  until 
after  the  election.  The  newspapers  can  just  as  well  keep 
silent  on  that  score  as  not.  There's  one  thing  I  would 
suggest" — and  he  was  now  thinking  of  the  street-railway 
properties  which  Mr.  Cowperwood  had  so  judiciously  col 
lected — ' '  and  that  is  that  the  city  treasurer  be  cautioned 
against  advancing  any  more  money  in  a  situation  of  this 
kind.  He  might  readily  be  compromised  into  advancing 
much  more.  I  suppose  a  word  from  you,  Henry,  would 
prevent  that." 

"Yes;  I  can  do  that,"  said  Mollenhauer,  solemnly. 

"My  judgment  would  be,"  said  Butler,  in  a  rather  ob 
scure  manner,  thinking  of  Cowperwood's  mistake  in 
appealing  to  these  noble  protectors  of  the  public^  "that 
it's  best  to  let  sleepin'  dogs  run  be  thimselves." 

Thus  ended  Frank  Cowperwood's  dreams  of  what 
Butler  and  his  political  associates  might  do  for  him  in 
this  hour  of  his  distress. 


CHAPTER   XXIX 

THE  energies  of  Cowperwood,  after  leaving  Butler — 
after  having  made  the  one  arrangement  which  held, 
as  he  thought,  any  considerable  hope  for  the  morrow — 
were  devoted  to  the  task  of  seeing  others  who  might  be  of 
some  assistance  to  him.  He  had  left  word  with  Mrs. 
Stener  that  if  any  message  came  from  her  husband  he  was 
to  be  notified  at  once.  He  hunted  up  Walter  Leigh,  of 
Drexel  &  Co.,  Avery  Stone,  of  Jay  Cooke  &  Co.,  President 
Davison  of  the  Girard  National  Bank,  and  others  in  order 
to  consult  about  his  loans.  He  wanted  to  see  what  they 
thought  of  the  situation,  what  they  had  heard,  if  any 
thing.  If  he  offered  them  such  and  such  sets  of  securities 
in  the  morning,  what  could  he  get  on  them?  He  wanted 
to  negotiate  a  loan  with  President  Davison  covering  all 
his  real  and  personal  property. 

"I  can't  tell  you,  Frank,"  Walter  Leigh  insisted,  when 
Cowperwood,  after  many  conferences,  had  called  at  his 
house.  "I  don't  know  how  things  will  be  running  by 
to-morrow  noon.  I'm  glad  to  know  how  you  stand. 
I'm  glad  you're  doing  what  you're  doing — getting  all  your 
affairs  in  shape.  It  will  help  a  lot.  I'll  favor  you  all  I 
possibly  can.  But  if  the  chief  decides  on  a  certain  group 
of  loans  to  be  called,  they'll  have  to  be  called,  that's  all. 
I'll  do  my  best  to  make  things  look  better.  If  the  whole 
of  Chicago  is  wiped  out  the  insurance  companies — some 
of  them,  anyhow — are  sure  to  go,  and  then  look  out.  I 
suppose  you'll  call  in  all  your  loans?" 

"Not  any  more  than  I  have  to." 

"Well,  that's  just  the  way  it  is  here — or  will  be." 

The  two  men  shook  hands.  They  liked  each  other. 
329 


THE    FINANCIER 

Leigh  was  of  the  city's  fashionable  coterie,  a  society  man 
to  the  manner  born,  but  with  a  wealth  of  common  sense 
and  a  great  deal  of  worldly  experience.  Cowperwood  was 
fitted  by  brains  and  tact  to  adorn  any  station ;  but  he  was 
of  a  lower  stratum,  not  of  the  elite  by  birth.  Still,  Leigh 
liked  him  very  much. 

"I'll  tell  you,  Frank,"  he  observed,  at  parting,  "I've 
always  thought  you  were  carrying  too  much  street-rail 
way.  It's  great  stuff  if  you  can  get  away  with  it,  but 
it's  just  in  a  pinch  like  this  that  you're  apt  to  get  hurt. 
You've  been  making  money  pretty  fast  out  of  that  and 
city  loan." 

He  looked  directly  into  his  long-time  friend's  eyes,  and 
they  smiled.  Cowperwood  liked  Leigh,  and  Leigh  liked 
Cowperwood.  But  business  is  business. 

It  was  the  same  with  Avery  Stone,  President  Davison, 
and  others.  They  had  all  already  heard  rumors  of 
disaster  when  he  arrived.  They  were  not  sure  what  the 
morrow  would  bring  forth.  It  looked  very  unpromising. 
President  Davison  was  doubtful  about  Cowperwood's 
house  and  real  estate.  He  would  do  what  he  could. 
If  anybody  could  do  it  for  him  he  would.  Cowperwood 
returned  to  his  own  home  late — not  so  much  depressed  as 
energetically  nervous  and  questioning;  but  before  doing 
so  he  stopped  in  to  see  Edward  Butler,  whose  interview 
with  Mollenhauer  and  Simpson  was  now  over.  Butler, 
who  had  been  meditating  what  he  should  say  to  Cowper 
wood,  was  not  unfriendly  in  his  manner.  "So  you're 
back,"  he  said,  when  Cowperwood  appeared. 

"Yes,  Mr.  Butler,"  Cowperwood  replied. 

"Well,  I'm  not  sure  that  I've  been  able  to  do  anything 
for  you.  I'm  afraid  not,"  Butler  said,  cautiously.  "It's 
a  hard  job  you  set  me.  Mr.  Mollenhauer  seems  to  think 
that  hell  support  the  market,  on  his  own  account.  I 
think  he  will.  Mr.  Simpson  has  interests  which  he  has  to 
protect.  I'm  goin'  to  buy  for  myself,  of  course." 

He  paused  to  reflect. 

330 


THE    FINANCIER 

"  I  couldn't  get  them  to  call  a  conference  with  any  of  the 
big  moneyed  men  as  yet,"  he  added,  warily.  "They'd 
rather  wait  and  see  what  happens  in  the  mornin'.  Still, 
I  wouldn't  be  down-hearted  if  I  were  you.  If  things 
turn  out  very  bad  they  may  change  their  minds.  I  had 
to  tell  them  about  Mr.  Stener.  It's  pretty  bad,  but 
they're  hopin'  you'll  come  through  and  straighten  that 
out.  I  hope  so.  About  my  own  loan — well,  I'll  see  how 
things  are  in  the  mornin'.  If  I  raisonably  can  I'll  lave 
it  with  you.  You'd  better  see  me  again  about  it.  I 
wouldn't  try  to  get  any  more  money  out  of  Stener  if  I 
were  you.  It's  pretty  bad  as  it  is." 

Butler  was  friendly,  but  non-committal,  and  Cowper- 
wood  could  see  that  he  was  not  to  get  much  aid  from  the 
politicians.  The  one  thing  that  disturbed  him  was  this 
reference  to  Stener.  Had  they  already  communicated 
with  him — warned  him?  If  so,  his  own  coming  to  Butler 
had  been  a  bad  move;  and  yet  from  the  point  of  view  of 
his  possible  failure  on  the  morrow  it  had  been  advisable. 
At  least  now  the  politicians  knew  where  he  stood.  If 
he  got  in  a  very  tight  corner  he  would  come  to  Butler 
again — the  politicians  could  assist  him  or  not,  as  they 
chose.  If  they  did  not  help  him  and  he  failed,  and  the 
election  were  lost,  it  was  their  own  fault.  Anyhow,  if 
he  could  see  Stener  first  the  latter  would  not  be  such  a 
fool  as  to  stand  in  his  own  light  in  a  crisis  like  this. 

"Things  look  rather  dark  to-night,  Mr.  Butler,"  said 
Cowperwood,  smartly,  "but  I  still  think  I'll  come  through. 
I  hope  so,  anyhow.  I'm  sorry  to  have  put  you  to  so  much 
trouble.  I  wish,  of  course,  that  you  gentlemen  could  see 
your  way  clear  to  assist  me,  'but  if  you  can't,  you  can't. 
I  have  a  number  of  things  that  I  can  do.  I  hope  that  you 
will  leave  your  loan  as  long  as  you  can." 

He  went  briskly  out,  and  Butler  meditated.  "A  clever 
young  chap  that,"  he  said.  "It's  too  bad.  He  may 
come  out  all  right  at  that."  He  was  thinking  of  that  pecu 
liar  thing  about  Cowperwood,  his  personal  magnetism, 


THE    FINANCIER 

which  did  not  permit  him  (Butler)  to  get  angry,  although 
Cowperwood  had  put  the  interests  of  the  Republican 
party  in  such  jeopardy  that  it  might  eventually  affect 
him.  "A  clever  felly,"  he  said,  as  he  went  off  to  his 
room,  "but  he's  goin'  a  little  too  fast,  I'm  thinkin'.  He'd 
be  doin'  better  if  he  took  his  time." 

Cowperwood  hurried  to  his  own  home  only  to  find  his 
father  awake  and  brooding.  To  him  he  talked  with  that 
strong  vein  of  sympathy  and  understanding  which  is 
usually  characteristic  of  those  drawn  by  ties  of  flesh  and 
blood.  He  liked  his  father.  He  sympathized  with  his 
painstaking  effort  to  get  up  in  the  world  covering  years 
and  years  of  effort.  He  could  not  forget  that  as  a  boy  he 
had  had  the  loving  sympathy  and  interest  of  his  father. 
The  loan  which  he  had  from  the  Third  National,  on  some 
what  weak  Union  Street  Railway  shares,  he  could  probably 
replace  if  stocks  did  not  drop  too  tremendously.  He 
must  replace  this  at  all  costs.  But  his  father's  invest 
ments  in  street-railways,  which  had  risen  with  his  own 
ventures,  and  which  now  involved  an  additional  two 
hundred  thousand — how  could  he  protect  these?  These 
shares  were  hypothecated  and  the  money  was  used  for 
other  things.  Additional  collateral  would  have  to  be  fur 
nished  the  several  banks  carrying  them.  It  was  nothing 
except  loans,  loans,  loans,  and  the  need  of  protecting 
them.  If  he  could  only  get  an  additional  deposit  of  two 
or  three  hundred  thousand  dollars  from  Stener.  But 
that,  in  the  face  of  possible  financial  difficulties,  was  rank 
criminality.  All  depended  on  the  morrow.  All  depended 
on  how  much  the  market  broke.  If  Simpson,  Mollen- 
hauer,  and  Butler  did  anything  at  all,  and  the  several 
big  banking  concerns  could  be  induced  to  stand  together, 
it  might  help  a  little;  but  how,  in  the  last  analysis,  was 
that  going  to  save  him?  Were  the  banks  going  to  be 
generous  to  him?  How  could  they  be?  They  would 
have  to  ask  him  for  additional  guarantees  up  to  the  limit 
of  the  various  shrinkages,  and  he  would  have  to  meet 

332 


THE    FINANCIER 

them.  Would  they  loan  him  money?  On  what?  More 
city  loan  which  he  might  get  from  Stener?  Would  the 
latter  get  back  in  time?  He  would  have  to  pretend  to 
Stener  to  have  sold  the  additional  city  loan  in  order  to  get 
it.  But,  also,  if  he  got  it,  he  would  have  to  account  for 
it  later,  and  that  might  not  be  so  easy.  That  was  the 
arrangement  he  had  always  had — to  call  for  as  much 
city  loan  as  he  had  sold  on  'change.  He  could  mortgage 
his  house,  his  real  estate;  but  it  all  depended  on  how 
much  this  shrinkage  would  be.  He  would  have  to  go  on 
'change  himself  along  with  Arthur  Rivers  (who  was  now 
out  of  Tighe  &  Co.  and  acting  for  himself),  and  see  at 
what  rate  he  could  protect  or  close  out  his  holdings. 
Simpson,  Mollenhauer,  Butler,  and  the  big  banking  houses, 
because  of  his  shrewd  suggestion  of  the  night  before,  were 
probably  going  to  support  the  market  to  a  certain  extent 
anyhow,  in  order  to  protect  their  own  interests.  Under 
cover  of  this,  if  he  could  sell  enough,  even  at  ten  points 
off,  to  realize  five  hundred  thousand  dollars  he  would 
come  out  all  right.  Could  he?  He  went  to  bed  finally 
very  late,  but  he  did  not  stay  there  long. 

Monday,  the  gth,  opened  gray  and  cheerless.  He 
was  up  early  with  the  dawn,  shaved  and  dressed,  and 
went  over,  under  the  gray-green  pergola,  to  his  father's 
house.  The  latter  was  up,  also,  and  stirring  about, 
for  he  had  not  been  able  to  sleep.  His  gray  eyebrows 
and  gray  hair  looked  rather  shaggy  and  disheveled  to 
Cowperwood,  and  his  side-whiskers  rather  pointless  and 
anything  but  decorative.  The  old  gentleman's  eyes  were 
tired,  and  his  face  was  gray.  Cowperwood  could  see  that 
he  was  worrying.  He  looked  up  from  a  small,  ornate 
escritoire  of  buhl,  which  Ellsworth  had  found  somewhere, 
and  which  was  full  of  his  private  papers,  and  smiled 
wanly.  He  was  quietly  tabulating  a  list  of  his  resources 
and  liabilities,  and  Cowperwood  winced.  He  hated  to 
see  his  father  worried,  but  he  could  not  help  it.  He 
had  hoped  sincerely,  when  they  built  their  houses  to- 

333 


THE    FINANCIER 

gether,  that  the  days  of  worry  for  his  father  had  gone 
forever. 

"Counting  up?"  he  asked,  familiarly,  with  a  smile. 
He  wanted  to  hearten  the  old  gentleman  as  much  as 
possible. 

"I  was  just  running  over  my  affairs  again  to  see  where 
I  stood  in  case — "  He  looked  quizzically  at  his  son,  and 
Frank  smiled  again. 

"I  wouldn't  worry,  father.  I  told  you  how  I  fixed  it 
so  that  Butler  and  that  crowd  will  support  the  market. 
I  have  Rivers  and  Targool  and  Harry  Eltinge  on  'change 
helping  me  sell  out,  and  they  are  the  best  men  there. 
They'll  handle  the  situation  carefully.  I  couldn't  trust 
Ed  or  Joe  in  the  case,  for  the  moment  they  began  to  sell 
everybody  would  know  what  was  going  on  with  me. 
This  way  my  men  will  seem  like  bears  hammering  the 
market,  but  not  hammering  too  hard.  I  ought  to  be 
able  to  unload  enough  at  ten  points  off  to  raise  five  hun 
dred  thousand.  The  market  may  not  go  lower  than 
that.  You  can't  tell.  It  isn't  going  to  sink  indefinitely. 
If  I  just  knew  what  the  big  insurance  companies  were 
going  to  do!  The  morning  paper  hasn't  come  yet,  has 
it?" 

He  was  going  to  pull  a  bell,  but  remembered  that  the 
servants  would  scarcely  be  up  as  yet.  He  went  to  the 
front  door  himself.  There  were  the  Press  and  the  Public 
Ledger  lying  damp  from  the  presses.  He  picked  them  up 
and  glanced  at  the  front  pages.  His  countenance  fell. 
On  one,  the  Press,  was  spread  a  great  black  map  of 
Chicago,  a  most  funereal-looking  thing,  the  black  por 
tion  indicating  the  burned  section.  He  had  never  seen 
a  map  of  Chicago  before  in  just  this  clear,  definite  way. 
He  had  seen  maps;  but  because  of  a  lack  of  financial 
interest  in  the  matter,  he  had  never  paid  any  attention 
to  them.  Now  the  city  stood  out  ominously  clear  to 
his  eye.  He  could  not  have  explained  to  himself  why  it 
impressed  him  so.  There  was  the  lake  rolling  wide  be- 

334 


THE    FINANCIER 

fore  it  as  a  white  portion,  and  there  was  the  Chicago 
River  dividing  the  city  into  three  almost  equal  portions 
— the  north  side,  the  west  side,  the  south  side.  He  saw 
at  once  that  the  city  was  curiously  arranged,  somewhat 
like  Philadelphia,  and  that  the  business  section  was  prob 
ably  an  area  of  two  or  three  miles  square,  set  at  the 
juncture  of  the  three  sides,  and  lying  south  of  the  main 
stem  of  the  river,  where  it  flowed  into  the  lake  after  the 
southwest  and  northwest  branches  had  united  to  form 
it.  This  was  a  significant  central  area;  but,  according 
to  this  map,  it  was  all  burned  out.  "Chicago  in  Ashes" 
ran  a  great  side-heading  set  in  heavily  leaded  black  type. 
"The  business  section  already  a  mass  of  smoldering 
ruins,  and  the  fire  still  raging  in  outlying  portions;  banks, 
wholesale  and  retail  houses,  office  buildings,  and  the  mag 
nificent  trading  section  entirely  destroyed."  It  went  on 
to  detail  the  sufferings  of  the  homeless,  the  number  of  the 
dead,  the  number  of  those  whose  fortunes  had  been  de 
stroyed.  Then  it  descanted  upon  the  probable  effect  in 
the  East. 

Cowperwood  set  his  teeth.  If  only  the  newspapers 
had  been  called  upon  to  minimize  this  disaster!  He  had 
forgotten  that.  Butler,  Mollenhauer,  Simpson,  and  the 
banks  could  have  done  it.  It  might  have  been  discussed 
more  gradually.  This  blast  of  woe  would  frighten  in 
vestors.  It  would  cause  a  rush  to  sell.  Now,  unless  the 
great  money  organizations  stood  firm,  there  would  be  a 
terrific  slaughter,  and  he  might  not  be  able  to  realize  the 
sum  he  needed.  Still,  there  was  no  use  to  despair!  He 
would  fight  this  thing  out  as  he  had  planned.  He  would 
go  on  'change  himself,  a  thing  he  rarely  did.  His  personal 
influence  might  help  some.  He  was  considered  very 
strong. 

"  I  wish  I  were  out  of  this  d — d  stock-jobbing  business," 
he  said  to  himself.  "I  wish  I  had  never  gotten  into  it." 

He  went  back  into  the  room  and  laid  the  papers  down. 

"Well,  it  looks  as  though  Chicago  were  really  done  for. 
335 


THE    FINANCIER 

We'll  have  to  see  how  the  street  feels."  And  he  excused 
himself,  saying  he  wanted  to  go  back  to  his  room  for  a 
few  minutes.  He  had  planned  the  night  before  with  his 
father  all  the  moves  that  they  could  possibly  make  to 
gether.  His  father  was  going  to  see  to  many  things  per 
sonally.  He  came  back  after  a  time  and  talked  to  his 
brothers,  giving  them  careful  and  detailed  instructions. 
Then,  though  it  was  still  early,  he  asked  his  father  if  he 
were  going  down-town,  for  he  knew  the  telegraphic  mes 
sages  might  be  beginning  to  arrive  even  at  this  early 
hour — orders  to  sell,  cancellations  of  orders  to  buy,  orders 
to  sell  short.  They  drove  down  in  their  own  light  buggy; 
and  when  Cowperwood  reached  his  own  office,  quite  the 
first  to  arrive,  it  was  as  he  expected.  There  were  already 
messages,  a  dozen  or  more,  to  cancel  or  sell.  While  he 
was  standing  there  a  messenger-boy  brought  him  three 
more.  One  was  from  Stener  and  said  that  he  would 
be  back  by  twelve  o'clock,  the  very  earliest  he  could  make 
it.  Cowperwood  was  relieved  and  yet  distressed.  He 
would  need  large  sums  of  money  to  meet  various  loans 
before  three.  Every  hour  was  precious.  He  must  ar 
range  to  meet  Stener  at  the  station  and  talk  to  him  before 
any  one  else  should  see  him.  Cowperwood  saw  clearly 
that  this  was  going  to  be  a  hard,  dreary,  strenuous  day. 
He  would  not  be  able  to  forget  it  very  soon.  That  was 
certain.  At  ten  minutes  of  eight  in  the  morning  this  was 
very  clear. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

THIRD  STREET,  by  the  time  Cowperwood  reached 
there,  was  stirring  with  other  bankers  and  brokers 
who  had  been  called  forth  by  the  exigencies  of  the  occa 
sion.  The  shutters  were  open  in  many  places  where  these 
were  still  maintained,  and  the  doors  wide.  There  was  a 
suspicious  hurrying  of  feet — that  intensity  which  makes 
all  the  difference  in  the  world  between  a  hundred  people 
placid  and  a  hundred  people  disturbed.  At  Third  and 
Dock,  where  the  exchange  stood,  and  as  the  time  drew 
near  for  it  to  open,  the  atmosphere  was  feverish.  The 
crowd  intending  to  do  business  for  the  day  was  larger 
than  usual,  for  the  company  of  regular  floor-men  who 
represented  the  different  firms  and  interests  of  the  city 
was  already  augmented  by  those  who  had  a  right  to 
operate  on  'change  but  seldom  came — men  like  Cowper 
wood  and  head  dealers  generally.  The  big  financiers  had 
sent  their  best  men,  seen  from  time  to  time  in  strenuous 
days  past,  and  their  very  presence  only  seemed  to  in 
tensify  the  general  feeling  of  fear  and  unrest.  The  bears 
were  eager,  defiant,  jubilant.  The  bulls  were  apprehensive, 
determined  to  cover  (sell)  in  the  subtlest  ways  if  possible, 
shy  of  indicating  by  look  or  glance  what  they  really 
thought.  It  was  nothing  strange  to  see  big  men  here 
at  this  occasion,  for  older  operators  recalled  and  ex 
plained  to  their  confidential  assistants  that  it  was  always 
so  in  times  like  this.  What  would  you  expect? 

"There's  going  to  be  h — 1  to  pay  here,  Charlie,  in  a 
few  minutes,"  one  floor-man  observed  to  his  second. 
"You  keep  a  close  eye  on  me.  I'll  give  you  the  quota 
tions  as  near  as  I  can  get  them,  and  you  sell  fast  until  I 
call  a  halt." 

337 


THE    FINANCIER 

He  was  going  to  go  short  of  Northern  Pacific,  which 
was  the  great  road  building  by  Jay  Cooke  &  Co.,  and  he 
hoped  to  sell  enough  on  a  sliding  scale  down  to  sixty  to 
assure  him  a  fortune  if  he  succeeded,  and  then  to  buy 
enough  below  that  figure  for  his  deliveries.  It  was  one  of 
those  notable  occasions  which  the  shrewd  are  always 
looking  for,  and  which  only  iron  nerve  can  execute.  It 
required  so  much  strength  to  fight  one's  way  to  the  center 
of  operations  and  snap  the  bargains.  So  much  shrewd 
ness  of  mind  to  see  the  drift  of  things.  So  much  courage 
to  stay.  At  every  pole  on  the  floor — Northern  Pacific, 
city  street-railways,  sugar,  coal,  mines,  State  securities — 
small  crowds  were  gathered  listening  to  rumors,  discussing 
possibilities,  pretending  indifference,  trying  to  figure  out 
from  the  smooth  surface  of  able  faces  whether  there  was 
to  be  a  determined  facing  down  of  panic  or  a  rush  to  sell. 
Arthur  Rivers  came  in  after  a  time  with  Simpson  Talbot, 
an  operator;  and  a  little  later  Newton  Targool  appeared, 
an  older  man  by  thirteen  years  than  when  Cowperwood 
had  first  observed  him.  He  had  not  changed  so  much — 
there  is  little  change  between  forty  and  sixty.  The  same 
shrewd,  inscrutable  face, — the  same  keen  sensing  of  the 
cunning  nature  of  wealth.  He  was  too  shrewd  a  man  to 
preach  disaster  even  to  his  most  intimate  associates.  It 
was  his  policy  never  to  admit  its  possibility,  whatever 
he  might  think,  even  to  himself.  But  this  morning  he 
was  satisfied  that  it  was  going  to  go  hard  with  all  current 
values  the  moment  the  bell  struck.  He  had  orders  to 
buy  certain  street  railway  stocks  up  to  a  certain  point, 
and  to  sell  more  of  the  same  under  cover  of  any  stability 
down  to  seventy.  After  that  he  was  to  get  instructions 
direct  from  Cowperwood,  who  was  to  be  on  the  floor. 
Rivers  had  the  same  orders — each  to  unload  one  hundred 
thousand  worth  above  seventy,  if  possible — to  seek  advice 
later.  Both  Targool  and  Rivers  were  going  short  on 
other  lines  in  the  face  of  the  splendid  opportunity  to  make 
something  as  bears.  They  said  nothing  at  all  of  this  to 

338 


THE    FINANCIER 

Cowperwood,  though  he  suspected  it.  It  could  not  be 
helped.  It  was  one  of  the  points  of  the  situation. 

When  the  opening  hour  came  the  floor  of  'change  had 
become  a  seething  mass,  for  the  room  was  not  notably 
large  and  the  facilities  for  handling  a  crowd  were  insufficient. 
In  one  corner  of  the  room  the  telegraph-machines — with 
their  operators  before  them,  a  dozen  or  more  in  number, 
in  shirt-sleeves  or  light-gray  seersucker  office-coats — were 
clicking  rapidly  and  even  irritatingly,  the  operators 
scribbling  or  ticking  as  the  messenger  brought  or  took 
information  away.  There  were  messenger-boys  and 
'change  boys  calling  names — "Mr.  Appleby!  Mr.  Hale! 
Mr.  Thompson!" — singsonging  them  out  in  a  musical 
but  indifferent  tone.  About  the  poles  the  groups  of  men 
were  gathering  closer  and  closer,  their  coats  buttoned 
tight,  their  bodies  pulled  erect,  their  faces  set,  their  one 
thought  being,  when  the  gong  struck,  to  hurl  themselves 
like  madmen  at  each  other  in  order  to  be  first  to  fill  a 
bid  or  grab  an  offer.  So  many  of  them  had  urgent  orders 
to  sell,  sell,  sell;  others  to  buy  below  certain  figures.  There 
were  so  many  like  Rivers  and  Targool  and  Tighe,  who  was 
also  present,  who  were  secretly  determined  to  depress  the 
market  and  buy  later. 

At  the  sound  of  the  gong  the  shrill,  staccato  uproar  be 
gan.  Its  metallic  vibrations  were  still  in  the  air  when 
the  two  hundred  men,  who  composed  this  local  organiza 
tion  at  its  utmost  stress  of  calculation,  threw  themselves 
upon  each  other  in  a  gibbering  struggle  to  dispose  of  or 
seize  the  bargains  of  the  hour.  The  interests  were  so 
varied  that  it  was  impossible  to  say  at  which  pole  it  was 
best  to  sell  or  buy.  Those  who  knew  most  about  a  given 
stock,  or  a  given  line  of  stocks,  had  crowded  around  the 
pole  which  represented  the  center  of  their  interests. 
Others,  who  had  no  specific  interest  but  were  inclined  to 
bear  the  market  generally,  were  anxious  to  pick  the  center 
of  greatest  activity  and  be  represented  at  the  minor  poles 
by  agents.  The  pole  covering  railroad  securities,  par- 

339 


THE    FINANCIER 

ticularly  the  Northern  Pacific,  was  a  great  center,  and 
that  of  the  local  street-car  securities  was  another,  for 
of  these  many  knew  much.  They  were  considered  weak 
under  the  present  circumstances,  and  a  great  killing  was 
expected. 

At  this  pole  Cowperwood  did  not  take  his  stand  imme 
diately,  for  he  could  not  leave  his  office  at  once.  Tar- 
gool  and  Rivers  had  been  delegated  to  stay  at  the  center 
of  things,  Joseph  and  Edward  to  hover  around  on  the 
outside  and  to  pick  up  such  opportunities  of  selling  as 
might  offer  a  reasonable  return  on  the  stock.  The  bears 
were  determined  to  jam  things  down,  and  it  all  depended 
on  how  well  the  agents  of  Mollenhauer,  Simpson,  Butler, 
and  others  supported  things  in  the  street-railway  world 
whether  those  stocks  retained  any  strength  or  not.  The 
last  thing  Butler  had  said  the  night  before  was  that  they 
would  do  the  best  they  could.  They  would  buy  up  to 
a  certain  point.  Whether  they  would  support  the  market 
indefinitely  he  would  not  say.  He  could  not  vouch  for 
Mollenhauer  and  Simpson.  Nor  did  he  know  the  condi 
tion  of  their  affairs.  Cowperwood  remained  at  his  office, 
or  rather  in  the  street,  visiting  the  various  banks  and  trust 
companies  where  he  had  loans,  and  seeing  how  much  he 
could  raise  on  his  house,  his  real  estate,  and  some  govern 
ment  bonds  which  he  had. 

At  the  pole  where  his  lieutenants  were  stationed,  things 
were  raging.  Walnut  and  Chestnut,  one  of  the  Simpson 
lines,  opened  at  ninety,  but  dropped  immediately  to 
eight-four,  for  there  were  scores  of  offers  from  wild-eyed 
bears  who  were  anxious  to  profit  here — "Eighty-nine! 
Eighty-eight!  Eighty-seven!  Eighty-six!  Eighty-five! 
Eighty-four!"  "Any  part  of  three  thousand  at  eighty- 
four,"  some  one  was  calling,  and  it  meant  that  there 
was  terrific  unloading  here  on  the  part  of  some  fright 
ened  speculator.  Martin  Schreyer,  an  operator,  was  buy 
ing  for  Simpson's  broker,  and  he  called,  defiantly,  "Take 
the  lot ' ' ;  but  he  no  sooner  did  so  than  he  was  confronted 

340 


THE    FINANCIER 

by  a  second  offer,  "Any  part  of  two  thousand  Walnut 
and  Chestnut  at  eighty-four." 

One  could  see  the  market  going  glimmering. 

With  Fifth  and  Sixth  Street  it  was  worse,  for  that  was 
a  Mollenhauer  organization,  and  not  so  strong.  The 
profits  were  not  so  great,  and  there  had  been  a  notable 
attempt  at  inflation  here.  The  stocks  had  been  un 
loaded  freely  right  and  left,  and  were  now  coming  out. 

"Any  part  of  five  thousand  Fifth  and  Sixth  at  eighty- 
five!  Eighty-four!  Eighty-three!  Eighty- two!  Eighty- 
one!  Eighty!  Seventy-nine!  Seventy-eight!  Seventy- 
seven!  Seventy-six!"  It  was  staggering  to  listen  to  it. 
The  expected  support  was  not  there.  Mollenhauer  held 
a  control  in  this  line  already  and  did  not  need  to  buy. 
Apparently  he  was  not  even  buying  to  protect  Jiis  loans. 
Finally,  at  seventy-five,  a  second  agent  called  "Sold," 
and  there  was  a  rush  to  offer  him  more  of  the  same. 
Fifteenth  and  Sixteenth,  Seventeenth  and  Nineteenth, 
Green  and  Coates,  opened  in  the  same  way,  only  lower, 
for  these  were  Butler  and  Cowperwood  holdings,  and 
dropped  in  the  face  of  Rivers's  and  Targool's  purchases 
to  seventy-one,  sixty-nine,  sixty-three,  and  sixty,  respec 
tively.  It  was  grim  business,  and  offered  small  chance  of 
unloading  any  quantity  of  anything  above  sixty. 

While  the  excitement  was  at  its  highest,  coats  being 
tugged  at,  shoulders  shaken  by  frantic  hands,  men  being 
borne  almost  to  the  floor  in  the  onrush  to  take  a  bid  or 
complete  a  trade,  Cowperwood  came  in.  He  had  had  a 
number  of  non-committal  interviews.  No  one  knew  how 
the  New  York  market  was  going  to  behave.  It  was  un 
certain  how  the  insurance  companies  would  weather  the 
storm.  None  had  failed  as  yet;  but  there  was  no  know 
ing  at  what  moment  the  telegraph  would  click  out  some 
ominous  information  which  would  have  to  be  posted  on 
the  board.  As  he  stood  in  the  door  looking  to  catch  the 
eye  of  Rivers,  who,  at  his  station  near  the  local  railway 
post,  was  buying  small  lots  to  maintain  a  semblance  of 

34i 


THE    FINANCIER 

strength,  the  'change  gong  sounded,  and  trading  stopped. 
All  the  brokers  and  traders  faced  about  to  the  little  bal 
cony,  where  the  secretary  of  the  'change  made  his  an 
nouncements;  and  there  he  stood,  the  door  open  behind 
him,  a  small,  dark,  clerkly  man  of  thirty-eight  or  forty, 
whose  spare  figure  and  pale  face  bespoke  the  methodic 
mind  that  knows  no  venturous  thought.  In  his  right 
hand  he  held  a  slip  of  white  paper. 

"The  American  Fire  Insurance  Company  of  Boston 
announces  its  inability  to  meet  its  obligations."  The 
gong  sounded  again. 

Immediately  the  storm  broke  anew,  more  voluble  than 
before,  because,  if  after  one  hour  of  investigation  on  this 
Monday  morning  one  insurance  company  had  gone  down, 
what  would  four  or  five  hours  or  a  day  or  two  bring  forth  ? 
It  meant  that  men  who  had  been  burned  out  in  Chicago 
would  not  be  able  to  resume  business.  It  meant  that  all 
loans  connected  with  this  concern  had  been,  or  would  be 
called  now.  And  the  cries  of  frightened  bulls  offering 
thousand  and  five  thousand  lot  holdings  in  Northern  Pa 
cific,  Illinois  Central,  Reading,  Lake  Shore.  Wabash;  in  all 
the  local  street-car  lines;  and  in  Cowperwood's  city  loans 
at  constantly  falling  prices  was  sufficient  to  take  the  heart 
out  of  all  concerned.  By  dint  of  buying  for  the  sinking- 
fund,  Cowperwood  had  maintained  city  loan  at  par;  but 
this  morning  it  was  selling — such  few  sales  as  were  made 
— at  eighty-eight,  and  was  constantly  falling.  The  mar 
gin  he  would  have  to  supply  the  banks  to  continue  their 
interest  in  this  security,  if  they  did  not  call  his  loans  in 
stantly,  was  large.  He  had  hurried  to  Arthur  Rivers 's 
side  in  the  lull;  but  there  was  little  he  could  say  to  him. 

"It  looks  as  though  the  Mollenhauer  and  Simpson 
crowds  aren't  doing  much  for  the  market,"  he  observed, 
gravely. 

"They've  had  advices  from  New  York.  It  can't  be 
supported  very  well.  There  are  three  insurance  com 
panies  over  there  on  the  verge  of  going  down,  I  under- 

342 


THE    FINANCIER 

stand.      I've   expected  to  see  them  posted  every  mo 
ment." 

They  stepped  aside,  as  pandemonium  began  again,  to 
discuss  ways  and  means.  Under  his  agreement  with 
Stener,  Cowperwood  could  buy  up  to  one  hundred  thou 
sand  dollars  of  city  loan,  above  the  customary  wash  sales, 
or  market  manipulation,  by  which  they  were  making 
money.  This  was  in  case  the  market  had  to  be  genuinely 
supported.  He  decided  to  buy  sixty  thousand  worth  now, 
and  use  this  to  sustain  his  loans  elsewhere.  Stener  would 
pay  him  for  this  instantly,  giving  him  more  ready  cash. 
It  might  help  him  in  one  way  and  another;  and,  anyhow, 
it  might  tend  to  strengthen  the  other  securities  long 
enough  at  least  to  allow  him  to  realize  a  little  some 
thing  now  at  better  than  ruinous  rates.  If  only  he 
had  the  means  "to  go  short"  on  this  market!  If  only 
doing  so  did  not  really  mean  ruin  to  his  present  position. 
It  was  characteristic  of  the  man  that  even  in  this  storm 
and  stress  of  a  crisis  he  should  be  seeing  how  the  very 
thing  that  of  necessity,  because  of  his  present  obligations, 
might  ruin  him,  might  also,  under  slightly  different  condi 
tions,  yield  him  a  great  harvest.  He  could  not  take  ad 
vantage  of  it,  however.  He  could  not  be  on  both  sides  of 
this  market.  It  was  either  bear  or  bull,  and  of  necessity 
he  was  bull.  It  was  strange  but  true.  His  subtlety 
could  not  avail  him  here.  He  was  about  to  turn  and  hurry 
to  see  a  certain  banker  who  might  loan  him  something 
on  his  house,  when  the  gong  struck  again.  Once  more 
trading  ceased.  Arthur  Rivers,  from  his  position  at  the 
State  securities  post,  where  city  loan  was  sold,  and  where 
he  had  started  to  buy  for  Cowperwood,  looked  significantly 
at  him.  Newton  Targool  hurried  to  Cowperwood's  side. 

"  You're  up  against  it,"  he  exclaimed.  "I  wouldn't  try 
to  sell  against  this  market.  It's  no  use.  They're  cut 
ting  the  ground  from  under  you.  The  bottom's  out. 
Things  are  bound  to  turn  in  a  few  days.  Can't  you  hold 
out?  Here's  more  trouble." 

343 


THE    FINANCIER 

He  raised  his  eyes  to  the  announcer's  balcony. 

"The  Eastern  and  Western  Fire  Insurance  Company 
of  New  York  announces  that  it  cannot  meet  its  obli 
gations." 

A  low  sound  something  like  "Haw!"  broke  forth. 

The  announcer's  gavel  struck  for  order. 

"The  Erie  Fire  Insurance  Company  of  Rochester  an 
nounces  that  it  cannot  meet  its  obligations." 

Again  that  "H-a-a-a-w!" 

Once  more  the  gavel. 

"The  American  Trust  Company  of  New  York  has  sus 
pended  payment." 

"H-a-a-a-w!" 

The  storm  was  on. 

"What  do  you  think?"  asked  Targool.  "You  can't 
brave  this  storm.  Can't  you  quit  selling  and  hold  out 
for  a  few  days?  Why  not  sell  short?" 

"They  ought  to  close  this  thing  up,"  Cowperwood  said, 
shortly,  thinking  of  what  years  later  was  actually  done 
in  a  crisis  in  New  York.  "  It  would  be  a  splendid  way  out. 
Then  nothing  could  be  done."  He  hurried  to  consult 
with  those  who,  finding  themselves  in  a  similar  predica 
ment  with  himself,  might  use  their  influence  to  bring  it 
about.  It  was  a  mean  trick  to  play  on  those  who,  now 
finding  the  market  favorable  to  their  designs  in  its  fall 
ing  condition,  were  harvesting  a  fortune.  But  that  was 
nothing  to  him.  Business  was  business.  There  was  no 
use  selling  at  ruinous  figures,  and  he  gave  his  lieutenants 
orders  to  stop.  Unless  the  bankers  favored  him  heavily, 
or  the  stock  exchange  was  closed,  or  Stener  could  be  in 
duced  to  deposit  an  additional  three  hundred  thousand  with 
him  at  once,  he  was  ruined.  He  knew  his  assets  and  his 
liabilities  as  he  knew  his  ten  fingers.  He  hurried  down 
the  street  to  various  bankers  and  brokers  suggesting 
that  they  do  this — close  the  exchange.  At  a  few  minutes 
before  twelve  o'clock  he  drove  rapidly  to  the  station  to 
meet  Stener;  but  to  his  great  disappointment  the  latter 

344 


THE    FINANCIER 

was  not  there.  It  looked  as  though  he  had  missed  his 
train.  Cowperwood  sensed  something,  some  trick;  and 
in  driving  back  to  his  office  to  see  if  any  message  had 
arrived,  decided  also  to  go  to  the  city  hall  and  to  Stener's 
house.  Perhaps  he  had  arrived  and  was  trying  to  avoid 
him.  After  what  Butler  had  said  and  the  evidence  of 
non-support  on  the  market,  Cowperwood  was  inclined  to 
think  that  Stener  was  being  reached  and  influenced 
against  him — frightened  into  getting  out  of  the  market 
entirely.  It  gave  him  a  feeling  of  cold  untoward  treachery. 

On  the  strength  of  this  feeling  Cowperwood  drove 
swiftly  to  Stener's  office,  and,  not  finding  him  there, 
direct  to  his  house.  Here  he  was  not  surprised  to 
meet  Stener  just  coming  out,  looking  very  pale  and 
distraught.  At  the  sight  of  Cowperwood  he  actually 
blanched. 

"Why,  hello,  Frank,"  he  exclaimed,  sheepishly,  "  where 
do  you  come  from?" 

"What's  up,  George?"  asked  Cowperwood,  realizing 
something  untoward  in  Stener's  action,  but  seeking  not 
to  embarrass  him.  "I  thought  you  were  coming  into 
Broad  Street." 

"So  I  was,"  returned  Stener,  foolishly,  "but  I  thought 
I  would  get  off  and  change  my  clothes.  I've  a  lot  of 
things  to  'tend  to  yet  this  afternoon.  I  was  coming  in  to 
see  you."  After  Cowperwood's  urgent  telegram  this  was 
silly,  but  the  young  banker  let  it  pass. 

"Jump  in,  George,"  he  said.  "I  have  something  very 
important  to  talk  to  you  about.  I  told  you  in  my  tele 
gram  about  the  likelihood  of  a  panic.  It's  on.  There 
isn't  a  moment  to  lose.  Stocks  are  'way  down,  and  most 
of  my  loans  are  being  called.  I  want  to  know  if  you  won't 
let  me  have  three  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars  for 
a  few  days  at  four  or  five  per  cent.  I'll  pay  it  all  back  to 
you.  I  need  it  very  badly.  If  I  don't  get  it  I'm  likely  to 
fail.  You  know  what  that  means,  George.  It  will  tie 
up  every  dollar  I  have.  Those  street-car  holdings  of 
12  345 


THE    FINANCIER 

yours  will  be  tied  up  with  me.  I  won't  be  able  to  let  you 
realize  on  them,  and  that  will  put  those  loans  of  mine 
from  the  treasury  in  bad  shape.  You  won't  be  able  to 
put  the  money  back,  and  you  know  what  that  means. 
We're  in  this  thing  together.  I  want  to  see  you  through 
safely,  but  I  can't  do  it  without  your  help.  I  had  to  go 
to  Butler  last  night  to  see  about  a  loan  of  his,  and  I'm 
doing  my  best  to  get  money  from  other  sources.  But 
I  can't  see  my  way  through  on  this,  I'm  afraid,  unless 
you're  willing  to  help  me."  Cowperwood  paused.  He 
did  not  know  what  Stener  had  heard.  He  wanted  to  put 
the  whole  case  clearly  and  succinctly  to  him  before  he  had 
a  chance  to  refuse — to  make  him  realize  it  as  his  own 
predicament. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  what  Cowperwood  had  keenly 
suspected  was  literally  true.  Stener  had  been  reached. 
The  moment  Butler  and  Simpson  had  left  him  the  night 
before,  Mr.  Mollenhauer  had  sent  for  his  very  able  secre 
tary,  Mr.  Abner  Sengstack,  and  despatched  him  to  learn 
the  truth  about  Stener's  whereabouts.  Mr.  Sengstack, 
still  following  instructions,  had  then  sent  a  long  wire 
to  Mr.  Strobik,  who  was  with  Stener,  urging  him  to 
caution  the  latter  against  Cowperwood.  The  state  of 
the  treasury  was  known.  Stener  and  Strobik  were  to 
be  met  by  Sengstack  whenever  they  arrived  at  Wilming 
ton  (this  to  forefend  against  the  possibility  of  Cowper- 
wood's  reaching  Stener  first) — and  the  whole  state  of  affairs 
was  to  be  made  perfectly  plain.  No  more  money  was  to 
be  issued  under  penalty  of  prosecution.  If  Mr.  Stener 
wanted  to  see  any  one  he  must  see  Mollenhauer.  Mr. 
Sengstack,  having  received  a  telegram  from  Strobik  in 
forming  him  of  their  proposed  arrival  at  noon  the  next 
day,  had  proceeded  to  Wilmington  to  meet  them.  The 
result  was  that  Stener  did  not  come  direct  into  the 
business  heart  of  the  city,  but  instead  got  off  at  West 
Philadelphia,  proposing  to  go  first  to  his  house  to  change 
his  clothes  and  then  to.  see  Mr.  Mollenhauer  before  seeing 

346 


THE    FINANCIER 

Cowperwood.  He  was  very  badly  frightened  and  wanted 
time  to  think. 

Now  at  the  mention  of  three  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
dollars  he  stirred  nervously,  and  at  the  mention  of  Butler 
he  moved.  Strobik  had  told  him  that  Cowperwood  had 
practically  confessed  to  Butler  and  the  others  that  he  was 
bankrupt. 

"  I  can't  do  it,  Frank,"  Stener  pleaded,  piteously.  "I'm 
in  pretty  bad  in  this  matter,  it  looks  to  me  just  now.  Mr. 
Mollenhauer's  secretary  met  the  train  out  at  Wilmington 
just  now  to  warn  me  against  this  situation,  and  Strobik 
is  against  it.  They  know  how  much  money  I've  got 
outstanding.  You  or  somebody  has  told  them.  I  can't 
go  against  Mollenhauer.  I  owe  everything  I've  got  to 
him,  in  a  way.  He  got  me  this  place. " 

Cowperwood's  eyes  clouded  ominously.  He  pretended 
to  be  properly  astonished  at  this  development,  as  he  might 
well  have  been;  and  yet  he  was  not  astonished,  either. 
Stener  was  such  a  tool.  He  was  more  surprised  at  what 
Stener  told  him  of  Mollenhauer.  That  explained  in  a 
way  why  Mollenhauer  and  Simpson  had  refused  to  act 
the  night  before.  Either  Mollenhauer,  Simpson,  and 
Butler  had  combined  against  him,  instead  of  assisting  him 
as  he  had  expected,  or  Mollenhauer  and  Simpson  had  re 
fused  Butler's  proposition,  or  Mollenhauer  was  driving  at 
him  alone — he  could  not  tell  which.  It  looked  to  his 
shrewd  mind,  for  the  time  being,  as  if  all  three  had  sud 
denly  combined  to  strike  him,  and  were  using  Stener  and 
the  panic  in  combination  to  undo  him.  He  was  angered 
and  chagrined,  but  he  did  not  see  just  what  was  to  be  done 
about  it  at  the  moment.  Perhaps  a  few  clear  words  from 
him  to  Stener  would  bring  the  latter  to  his  senses. 

"George,"  he  said,  "there's  no  use  being  angry  with 
me  for  going  to  Butler.  I  had  to  do  it  to  save  the  day. 
If  I  hadn't  been  able  to  reach  you  before  a  day  or  two,  and 
the  politicians  hadn't  helped  me — as  it  turns  out  they 
haven't — I  would  have  failed,  and  you  and  the  party  would 

347 


THE    FINANCIER 

have  been  in  a  bad  hole  and  we  wouldn't  even  have  got 
the  credit  of  telling  the  truth  about  it.  I  did  it  as  much 
for  your  sake  as  my  own.  Butler  couldn't  or  didn't  do 
what  I  wanted  him  to  do — get  Mollenhauer  and  Simpson 
to  support  the  market.  Instead  of  that  they  are  ham 
mering  it.  They've  got  a  game  of  their  own.  It  is  up 
to  you  and  me,  George,  to  save  ourselves,  and  that's  what 
I'm  here  for  now.  If  you  don't  let  me  have  three  hundred 
and  fifty  thousand  dollars — three  hundred  thousand,  any 
how — you  and  I  are  ruined.  It  will  be  worse  for  you, 
George,  than  for  me,  for  I'm  not  involved  in  this  thing  in 
any  way — not  legally,  anyhow.  But  that's  not  what  I'm 
thinking  of.  I  want  to  save  my  business  and  you  want 
to  save  your  name  and  money." 

"But  what  can  I  do,  Frank?"  pleaded  Stener,  weakly. 
"I  can't  go  against  Mollenhauer.  They  can  prosecute 
me  if  I  do  that.  They  can  do  it,  anyhow.  I  can't  do  that. 
I'm  not  strong  enough.  If  they  didn't  know,  if  you  hadn't 
told  them,  it  might  be  different,  but  this  way — "  He 
shook  his  head  sadly,  his  gray  eyes  filled  with  a  pale 
distress. 

"George,"  replied  Cowperwood,  who  realized  now  that 
only  the  sternest  arguments  would  have  any  effect  here, 
"don't  talk  about  what  I  did.  What  I  did  I  had  to  do. 
You're  in  danger  of  losing  your  head  and  your  nerve  and 
making  a  serious  mistake  here,  and  I  don't  want  to  see 
you  make  it.  I  have  five  hundred  thousand  of  the  city's 
money  invested  for  you — partly  for  me,  and  partly  for 
you,  but  more  for  you  than  for  me" — which,  by  the  way, 
was  not  true — "and  here  you  are  hesitating  in  an  hour 
like  this  as  to  whether  you  will  protect  your  interest  or 
not.  I  can't  understand  it.  This  is  a  crisis,  George. 
Stocks  are  tumbling  on  every  side — everybody's  stocks. 
You're  not  alone  in  this — neither  am  I.  This  is  a  panic, 
brought  on  by  a  fire,  and  you  can't  expect  to  come  out  of  a 
panic  alive  unless  you  do  something  to  protect  yourself. 
You  say  you  owe  your  place  to  Mollenhauer  and  that 


THE    FINANCIER 

you're  afraid  of  what  he'll  do.  If  you  look  at  your  own 
situation  and  mine,  you'll  see  that  it  doesn't  make  much 
difference  what  he  does,  so  long  as  I  don't  fail.  If  I  fail, 
where  are  you?  Who's  going  to  save  you  from  prosecu 
tion?  Will  Mollenhauer  or  any  one  else  come  forward 
and  put  five  hundred  thousand  dollars  in  the  treasury  for 
you?  He  will  not.  If  Mollenhauer  and  the  others  have 
your  interests  at  heart,  why  aren't  they  helping  me  on 
'change  to-day?  I'll  tell  you  why.  They  want  your 
street-railway  holdings  and  mine,  and  they  don't  care 
whether  you  go  to  jail  afterward  or  not.  Now  if  you're 
wise  you  will  listen  to  me.  I've  been  loyal  to  you,  haven't 
I?  You've  made  money  through  me — lots  of  it.  If 
you're  wise,  George,  you'll  go  to  your  office  and  write  me 
your  check  for  three  hundred  thousand  dollars,  anyhow, 
before  you  do  a  single  other  thing.  Don't  see  anybody 
and  don't  do  anything  till  you've  done  that.  You  can't 
be  hung  any  more  for  a  sheep  than  you  can  for  a  lamb. 
No  one  can  prevent  you  from  giving  me  that  check. 
You're  the  city  treasurer.  Once  I  have  that  I  can  see  my 
way  out  of  this,  and  I'll  pay  it  all  back  to  you  next  week 
or  the  week  after — this  panic  is  sure  to  end  in  that  time. 
With  that  put  back  in  the  treasury  we  can  see  them  about 
the  five  hundred  thousand  a  little  later.  In  three  months, 
or  less,  I  can  fix  it  so  that  you  can  put  that  back.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  I  can  do  it  in  fifteen  days  once  I  am  on  my 
feet  again.  Time  is  all  I  want.  You  won't  have  lost  your 
holdings  and  nobody  will  cause  you  any  trouble  if  you 
put  the  money  back.  They  don't  care  to  risk  a  scandal 
any  more  than  you  do.  Now  what  '11  you  do,  George? 
Mollenhauer  can't  stop  you  from  doing  this  any  more 
than  I  can  make  you.  Your  life  is  in  your  own  hands. 
What  will  you  do?" 

Cowperwood  was  cool,  determined,  patient,  and  im 
patient.  He  had  taken  a  firm  stand  here,  clearly  outlined 
the  issue,  given  Stener  a  definite  choice.  He  wanted  to 
do  it — wanted  to  make  him  see  very  clearly  exactly  what 

349 


THE    FINANCIER 

it  was  he  was  in  danger  of  doing.  If  he,  Cowperwood, 
failed,  Stener  was  certainly  in  a  bad  way.  The  man 
would  be  charged  with  embezzlement.  As  for  himself, 
things  were  not  so  bad.  He  would  not,  technically,  be 
charged  with  embezzlement,  though  he  might  be  accused 
of  compounding  a  felony.  Nevertheless,  he  would  be 
broken  financially,  and  that  was  the  one  thing  he  dreaded 
most  of  all — the  loss  of  his  wealth.  He  could  not  stand 
that.  Fortune  was  too  nearly  within  his  reach.  It 
would  be  too  much  to  lose  it.  Still  he  fronted  the  pos 
sibility  with  a  steady  eye. 

Stener  sat  there  ridiculously  meditating  when,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  his  very  financial  blood,  to  use  a  simile, 
was  oozing  away.  His  wound  was  a  fatal  one,  and  he 
realized  it.  Yet  he  was  afraid  to  act.  He  was  afraid  of 
Mollenhauer,  afraid  of  Cowperwood,  afraid  of  life  and  of 
himself.  The  thought  of  panic,  loss,  was  not  so  much  a 
definite  thing  connected  with  his  own  property,  his  money, 
as  it  was  with  his  social  and  political  standing  in  the 
community.  Few  people  have  the  sense  of  financial  in 
dividuality  strongly  developed.  They  do  not  know  what 
it  means  to  be  a  controller  of  wealth,  to  have  that  which 
releases  the  sources  of  social  action — its  medium  of  ex 
change.  In  most  people  thoughts  of  financial  supremacy 
are  not  high  and  strong.  They  want  money,  but  not  for 
money's  sake.  They  want  it  for  what  it  will  buy  in  the 
way  of  simple  comforts,  whereas  the  financier  wants  it  for 
what  it  will  control — for  what  it  will  represent  in  the  way 
of  dignity,  force,  power.  Cowperwood  wanted  money  in 
that  way ;  Stener  not.  That  was  why  he  had  been  so  ready 
to  let  Cowperwood  act  for  him ;  and  now,  when  he  should 
have  seen  more  clearly  than  ever  the  significance  of  what 
Cowperwood  was  proposing,  he  was  frightened  and  his 
reason  obscured  by  such  things  as  Mollenhauer's  probable 
opposition  and  rage,  Cowperwood's  possible  failure,  his 
own  inability  to  face  a  real  crisis,  and  things  of  that  sort. 
Cowperwood's  real  innate  financial  ability  did  not  reas- 

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THE    FINANCIER 

sure  Stener  in  this  hour.  The  banker  was  too  young,  too 
new.  Mollenhauer  was  older,  richer.  So  was  Simpson; 
so  was  Butler.  These  men,  with  their  wealth,  represented 
the  big  forces,  the  big  standards  in  his  world  as  yet. 
Mollenhauer's  word,  as  long  as  he,  Stener,  had  been 
dealing  with  Cowperwood,  and  as  much  as  he  had  pros 
pered,  was  still  a  law  to  him.  And  besides,  Cowperwood 
confessed  that  he  was  in  great  danger — that  he  was  in  a 
corner.  That  was  the  worst  possible  confession  to  make 
to  Stener — although  under  the  circumstances  it  was  the 
only  one  that  could  be  made — for  he  had  no  courage  to 
face  danger. 

So  he  sat  beside  Cowperwood  meditating — pale,  flaccid, 
unable  to  see  the  main  line  of  his  interests  quickly,  unable 
to  follow  them  definitely,  surely,  vigorously — whilethey 
drove  to  his  office.  Cowperwood  entered  it  with  him  for 
the  sake  of  continuing  his  plea. 

"Well,  George,"  he  said,  earnestly,  "I  wish  you'd  tell 
me.  Time's  short.  We  haven't  a  moment  to  lose.  Give 
me  the  money,  won't  you,  and  I'll  get  out  of  this  quick. 
We  haven't  a  moment,  I  tell  you.  Don't  let  those  people 
frighten  you  off.  They're  playing  their  own  little  game; 
you  play  yours." 

"I  can't,  Frank,"  said  Stener,  finally,  very  weakly,  his 
sense  of  his  own  financial  future,  successful  and  wonder 
ful,  overcome  for  the  time  being  by  the  thought  of  Mol 
lenhauer's  hard,  controlling  face.  The  latter  was  his 
political  God.  He  (Stener)  was  but  one  among  many  ser 
vitors.  "I'll  have  to  think.  I  can't  do  it  right  now. 
Strobik  was  just  in  here,  and — " 

"Good  God,  George,"  exclaimed  Cowperwood,  scorn 
fully,  "don't  talk  about  Strobik!  What's  he  got  to  do 
with  it?  Think  of  yourself.  Think  of  where  you  will 
be.  It's  your  future — not  Strobik's — that  you  have  to 
think  of." 

"I  know,  Frank,"  persisted  Stener,  weakly;  "but, 
really,  I  don't  see  how  I  can.  Honestly  I  don't.  You 

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THE    FINANCIER 

say  yourself  you're  not  sure  whether  you  can  come  out 
of  things  all  right,  and  three  hundred  thousand  more  is 
three  hundred  thousand  more.  I  can't,  Frank.  I  really 
can't.  It  wouldn't  be  right.  Besides,  I  want  to  talk  to 
Mollenhauer  first,  anyhow." 

"Good  God,  how  you  talk!"  exploded  Cowperwood, 
angrily,  looking  at  him  with  ill-concealed  contempt.  "See 
Mollenhauer — that's  the  thing  to  do.  Let  him  tell  you 
how  to  cut  your  own  throat  for  his  benefit.  It  wouldn't 
be  right  to  loan  me  three  hundred  thousand  dollars  more, 
but  it  would  be  right  to  let  the  five  hundred  thousand 
dollars  you  have  loaned  stand  unprotected  and  lose  it. 
That's  right,  isn't  it?  That's  just  what  you  propose  to 
do — lose  it,  and  everything  else  besides.  I  want  to  tell 
you  what  it  is,  George — you've  lost  your  mind.  You've 
let  a  single  message  from  Mollenhauer  frighten  you  to 
death,  and  because  of  that  you're  going  to  risk  your  for 
tune,  your  reputation,  your  standing — everything.  Do 
you  really  realize  what  this  means  if  I  fail  ?  You  will  be  a 
convict,  I  tell  you,  George.  You  will  go  to  prison.  This 
fellow  Mollenhauer,  who  is  so  quick  to  tell  you  what  not 
to  do  now,  will  be  the  last  man  to  turn  a  hand  for  you 
once  you're  down.  Why,  look  at  me — I've  helped  you, 
haven't  I?  Haven't  I  handled  your  affairs  satisfactorily 
for  you  up  to  now?  What  in  Heaven's  name  has  got  into 
you?  What  have  you  to  be  afraid  of?" 

Stener  was  just  about  to  make  another  weak  rejoinder 
when  the  door  from  the  outer  office  opened,  and  Mr. 
Albert  Stires,  Mr.  Stener's  chief  clerk,  entered.  Stener 
was  too  flustered  to  really  pay  any  attention  to  Stires  for 
the  moment;  but  Cowperwood,  being  so  well  known  to 
the  latter,  took  matters  in  his  own  hands. 

"What  is  it,  Albert?"  he  asked,  familiarly. 

"Mr.  Sengstack  from  Mr.  Mollenhauer  to  see  Mr. 
Stener." 

At  the  sound  of  this  dreaded  name  Stener  wilted  like 
a  leaf.  Cowperwood  saw  it.  He  realized  that  his  last 

352 


THE    FINANCIER 

hope  of  getting  the  three  hundred  thousand  dollars  was 
now  probably  gone.  Still  he  did  not  propose  to  give  up 
as  yet. 

"Well,  George,"  he  said,  after  Albert  had  gone  out 
leaving  word  that  Mr.  Stener  would  see  Mr.  Sengstack  in 
a  moment,  "I  see  how  it  is.  This  man  has  got  you  mes 
merized.  You  can't  act  for  yourself  now — you're  too 
frightened.  I'll  let  it  rest  for  the  present;  I'll  come 
back.  But  for  Heaven's  sake  pull  yourself  together. 
Think  what  it  means.  I'm  telling  you  exactly  what's 
going  to  happen  if  you  don't.  You'll  be  independently 
rich  if  you  do.  You'll  be  a  convict  if  you  don't.  There's 
the  long  and  the  short  of  it,  and  there's  no  third  way 
out." 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

APTER  leaving  Stener  in  his  office  Cowperwood  decided 
to  make  one  more  effort  in  the  street  before  seeing 
Butler  again,  and  after  him  Stener  for  a  final  appeal.  He 
jumped  into  his  light  spring  runabout,  which  he  so  often 
used  in  fair  weather — a  handsome  little  yellow-glazed 
vehicle,  with  a  yellow-leather  cushion-seat,  drawn  by  a 
young,  high-stepping  bay  mare,  and  sent  her  scudding 
from  door  to  door,  throwing  down  the  lines  indifferently 
and  bounding  up  the  steps  of  banks  and  into  office  doors, 
the  while  she  looked  around  curiously  as  though  wonder 
ing  what  it  was  all  about.  It  never  occurred  to  him  that 
she  would  run  away.  No  horse  of  his  ever  had. 

In  these  offices,  after  seeing  Stener,  he  was  literally 
pleading  for  his  life.  And,  curiously,  it  never  occurred  to 
him  that  he  was  pleading.  It  was  all  business.  If  he 
could  induce  these  people  to  close  the  exchange,  to  give 
him  more  on  his  house  and  property  than  under  the  cir 
cumstances  they  would  ordinarily  give;  if  they  could  be 
induced  to  give  him  twenty-four  or  thirty-six  or  forty- 
eight  hours  of  grace,  why,  so  much  the  better.  It  wasn't 
their  charity — it  was  his  magnetism  that  was  doing  it. 
He  didn't  think  they  would  do  it  unless  he  made  them. 
He  had  no  more  regard  for  them  actually  than  he  had 
for  any  other  human  being — no  less  so.  They  were  all 
hawks — he  and  they.  They  were  all  tigers  facing  each 
other  in  a  financial  jungle.  If  they  were  surfeited,  if 
they  were  happy,  if  the  mood  were  on  them — any  one  or 
many  of  them — they  might  let  him  go,  otherwise  not. 
And  if  they  did,  thanks;  but  what  of  it?  And  if  they 
didn't,  no  thanks;  but  what  of  that?  They  were  none 

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THE    FINANCIER 

the  less  the  same  as  they  always  were — wolves  at  one 
moment,  smiling,  friendly  human  beings  at  another. 
Such  was  life.  He  had  no  illusions. 

So  to-day  he  said  to  Walter  Leigh,  now  one  of  the  big 
men  in  Drexel  &  Co. : 

"  Walter,  they  haven't  supported  the  market  as  I 
thought  they  would.  You  know  the  bottom's  out. 
What  about  my  loans?  Are  you  people  going  to  call 
them?" 

Leigh  had  previously  explained  that  he  couldn't  get 
any  support  for  the  closing-the-exchange  idea.  Too 
many  bears  or  "shorts"  were  anxious  for  their  winnings. 

"I  tell  you,  Frank,"  he  said,  at  one  point,  "I  think 
Mollenhauer  and  Simspon  are  trying  to  shake  you  out." 

"I  thought  so  myself,"  replied  Cowperwood,  "when  I 
saw  how  things  were  going  on  'change  this  morning. 
Somebody  is  hammering  my  lines.  But  what  about 
my  loans?" 

"Well,  you  know,  Frank,  how  it  is,"  replied  Leigh,  di 
rectly.  "They  are  already  twenty  points  under  what  we 
took  them  at " — he  was  referring  to  Cowperwood's  hypoth 
ecated  securities  on  which  the  loans  had  been  advanced 
— "and  we  have  one  rule.  I  don't  see  what  I  can  do." 

"I'm  expecting  to  raise  about  three  hundred  thousand 
by  to-morrow  noon,"  replied  Cowperwood,  with  a  great 
air  of  calm  and  courage,  as  though  he  were  not  in  reality 
already  too  pressed  for  means.  "I  can't  throw  my  hold 
ings  on  the  market.  It's  no  use.  I'd  rather  take  them 
to  private  individuals  and  put  them  up.  I  can  get  more. 
But  I  can't  do  it  in  an  hour.  I  have  to  have  a  little  time. 
Can't  you  give  me  until  to-morrow  noon,  or  say  Wednes 
day  noon?" 

Leigh  liked  Cowperwood  very  much.  He  really  re 
joiced  in  his  clear-minded,  unterrified  determination  and 
ability  to  fight  in  extremes.  There  was  something  dra 
matic  about  the  man  as  he  stood  here,  his  naturally 
smooth,  hard-fleshed  face  a  little  pale,  but  so  handsome. 

355 


THE    FINANCIER 

His  eyes,  usually  glazed  with  a  subtle  haze,  were  now  clear 
and  brilliant.  There  was  nothing  of  the  nervous  coward 
in  him.  He  was  almost  jaunty  in  his  appearance,  a  light- 
brownish-gray  wool  suit  covering  his  body  neatly,  and  a 
new  fall  brown  derby  hat  setting  squarely  above  his  eyes. 
His  formerly  short  mustache  had  become  longer  and  silky. 
It  was  turned  up  in  quite  a  distinguished  manner  about 
his  cheeks. 

'"I'd  like  to,  Frank,"  replied  Leigh.  "I'll  see  what  I 
can  do.  It  depends  on  how  the  old  man  feels.  He's  in 
a  fighting  mood  to-day.  He  smells  blood."  And  he 
looked  at  Cowperwood  grimly — quite  as  one  fighting  brave 
looks  at  another. 

Leigh,  for  all  his  friendship,  was  helping  to  hammer 
Cowperwood's  stock,  for  from  what  he  (Cowperwood)  had 
said  the  night  before  and  early  this  morning,  he  knew 
that  his  fellow-financier  was  hard  pressed.  He  would 
probably  go  down,  or  be  sheared  of  most  of  his  holdings. 
Why  should  he  refuse  to  help  in  this  noble  and  profitable 
labor?  Business  was  business.  Still,  in  the  face  of  this, 
if  he  could  help  him  get  a  few  days'  grace  on  his  loans, 
it  would  be  all  right.  He  did  not  object  to  doing  that — 
rather  wanted  to  for  old  sake's  sake. 

"I  can't  get  at  the  old  man  right  now.  He's  in  there 
talking  to  Ticknor.  When  he's  through  I'll  talk  to  him. 
I'll  send  you  word  before  two." 

Cowperwood  went  out  not  crestfallen,  but  brisk  and 
determined.  You  would  have  thought  by  his  shoulders 
that  he  had  loaned  somebody  money  at  good  interest, 
rather  than  that  he  had  been  begging  for  an  extension 
of  time.  But  he  hadn't  been  begging  it.  He  had  been 
attempting  to  compel  it. 

"Wonderful  fellow  that,"  said  Leigh.  "They'll  never 
down  him.  He'll  squirm  out  somehow." 

He  waited  thoughtfully  for  Ticknor  to  come  out,  and 
then  stated  Cowperwood's  case  to  Francis  Drexel,  the 
head  of  the  firm.  The  latter  was  a  solidly  built  man  of 

356 


THE    FINANCI ER 

about  fifty  years  of  age — grave,  reserved,  and  of  a  financial 
cast  of  countenance.     He  was  a  big  man,  a  big  thinker. 

"I'll  give  him  until  to-morrow  noon  only,"  replied  the 
white-mustached  financier,  indifferently.  "He's  in  a  bad 
hole.  He's  been  spreading  himself  out  too  thin.  He's  a 
bright  young  fellow,  but  he's  too  ambitious." 

He  turned  to  his  papers. 

Leigh  went  out. 

"Here,  boy,"  he  called,  writing  a  note,  "take  that  to 
Cowperwood  and  Company." 

It  contained  Francis  Drexel's  ultimatum. 

It  was  the  same  with  Cooke  &  Co.,  Clark  &  Co.,  the 
First  National  Bank,  the  Girard  National  Bank.  All 
were  interested,  considerate;  but  things  were  very  uncer 
tain.  The  Girard  National  Bank  refused  an  hour's  grace, 
and  he  had  to  send  a  large  bundle  of  his  most  valuable 
securities  to  cover  his  stock  shrinkage  there.  Word  came 
from  his  father  at  two  that  as  president  of  the  Third  Na 
tional  he  would  have  to  call  for  his  one  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  dollars  due  there.  The  directors  were  suspicious 
of  his  stocks.  He  at  once  wrote  a  check  against  fifty  • 
thousand  dollars  of  his  deposits  in  that  bank,  took  twenty- 
five  thousand  of  his  available  office  funds,  called  a  loan 
of  fifty  thousand  against  Tighe  &  Co.,  and  sold  sixty 
thousand  Green  &  Coates,  a  line  he  had  been  tentatively 
dabbling  in,  for  one-third  their  value — and,  combining  the 
general  results,  sent  them  all  to  the  Third  National.  His 
father  was  immensely  relieved  from  one  point  of  view, 
but  sadly  depressed  from  another.  He  knew  what  it 
meant  to  Frank.  He,  Cowperwood,  Sr.,  hurried  out 
at  the  noon-hour  to  see  what  his  own  holdings  would  bring. 
He  was  compromising  himself  in  a  way  by  doing  it,  but 
his  parental  heart,  as  well  as  his  own  financial  interests, 
were  involved.  By  mortgaging  his  house,  furniture,  car 
riages,  lots,  and  stocks,  he  managed  to  raise  one  hundred 
thousand  in  cash,  and  deposited  it  in  his  own  bank  to 
Frank's  credit;  but  it  was  a  very  light  anchor  to  wind- 

357 


THE    FINANCIER 

ward  in  this  swirling  storm,  at  that.  Frank  had  been 
counting  on  getting  all  of  his  loans  extended  three  or 
four  days  at  least.  When  he  saw  his  situation  at  two 
o'clock  of  this  Monday  afternoon,  he  said,  thoughtfully 
but  grimly:  "Well,  Stener  has  to  loan  me  three  hundred 
thousand — that's  all  there  is  to  it.  And  I'll  have  to  see 
Butler  now,  or  he'll  be  calling  his  loan  before  three." 

He  hurried  out,  jumped  into  his  runabout,  and  was  off 
again  to  Butler's  house,  driving  like  mad. 

Things  had  changed  greatly  overnight,  since  last  Mr. 
Cowperwood  talked  with  Mr.  Butler.  Although  friendly 
at  the  time  when  the  proposition  was  made  that  he  should 
combine  with  others  to  sustain  the  market,  and  which  had 
resulted  as  we  have  seen,  yet  on  this  Monday  morning  at 
nine  o'clock,  as  Butler  was  leaving  his  house  for  Owen's 
office,  an  additional  complication  had  been  added  to  this 
already  tangled  situation  which  had  changed  his  attitude 
completely.  As  he  was  coming  down  his  house  steps  to 
enter  the  runabout — Owen  had  preceded  him  by  three- 
quarters  of  an  hour — the  postman,  coming  up,  handed  him 
four  letters  for  himself,  all  of  which  he  paused  for  a  mo 
ment  to  glance  at.  One  was  from  a  sub-contractor  by  the 
name  of  O'Higgins,  complaining  of  his  inability  to  com 
plete  a  certain  piece  of  work  because  of  unnecessary  delay 
•in  the  delivery  of  material  due  him  from  a  stone-crushing 
company;  the  second  was  from  Father  Michael,  his  con 
fessor,  of  St.  Timothy's  rectory,  thanking  him  for  a  con 
tribution  to  the  parish  poor-fund;  a  third  was  from  Drexel 
&  Co.,  relating  to  a  deposit;  and  the  fourth  was  an  anony 
mous  communication,  written  on  cheap  trade  stationery, 
from  some  one  who  was  apparently  not  very  literate,  a 
woman,  most  likely,  in  a  scrawling  hand,  which  read: 

DEAR  SIR, — This  is  to  warn  you  that  your  daughter  Aileen  is 
running  around  with  a  man  that  she  shouldn't — Frank  A.  Cowper 
wood,  the  banker.  If  you  don't  believe  it,  watch  the  house  at  931 
North  Tenth  Street.  Then  you  can  see  for  yourself. 

358 


THE    FINANCIER 

There  was  neither  signature  nor  mark  of  any  kind  to 
indicate  from  whence  it  might  have  come.  Butler  got  the 
impression  strongly  that  it  might  have  been  written  by 
some  one  living  in  the  vicinity  of  the  number  indicated, 
so  keen  are  our  intuitions.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  was 
written  by  a  girl,  a  member  of  St.  Timothy's  Church,  who 
did  live  in  the  vicinity  of  the  house  indicated,  and  who 
knew  Aileen  by  sight  and  was  jealous  of  her  airs  and  her 
position,  as  well  as  the  wealth  of  her  family.  She  was  a 
thin,  anemic,  dissatisfied  creature  who  had  the  type  of 
brain  which  can  reconcile  the  gratification  of  personal 
spite  with  a  comforting  sense  of  having  fulfilled  a  moral 
duty.  There  are  many  such.  Her  home  was  some  five 
doors  north  of  the  unregistered  Cowperwood  domicile 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  street,  and  by  degrees,  in 
the  course  of  time,  she  made  out,  or  imagined  that 
she  had,  the  significance  of  this  institution,  piecing 
fact  to  fancy  and  fusing  all  with  that  keen  intuition 
which  is  so  closely  related  to  fact.  She  really  never 
did  know  exactly,  but  she  believed  with  a  belief  worthy 
of  a  better  cause.  The  result  was  eventually  this  letter 
which  now  spread  clear  and  grim  before  Mr.  Butler's 
eyes. 

The  Irish  are  a  practical  and  philosophic  race.  Their 
first  and  strongest  instinct  is  to  make  the  best  of  a  bad 
situation — to  put  a  better  face  on  evil  than  it  will  normally 
wear.  On  first  reading  these  lines  the  intelligence  they 
conveyed  sent  a  peculiar  chill  and  thrill  over  Mr.  Butler's 
sturdy  frame.  His  jaw  instinctively  closed,  and  his  gray, 
hair-shaded  eyes  narrowed.  A  keener  sense  of  the  subtlety 
of  the  character  of  Frank  Algernon  Cowperwood  than  he 
had  ever  had  before  came  to  him.  Could  this  be  true  ?  If  it 
were  not,  would  the  author  of  the  letter  say  so  practically, 
''If  you  don't  believe  it,  watch  the  house  at  931  North 
Tenth  Street"  ?  Wasn't  that  in  itself  proof  positive — the 
hard,  matter-of-fact  realism  of  it  ?  And  this  was  the  man 
who  had  come  to  him  the  night  before  seeking  aid — whom 

359 


THE    FINANCIER 

he  had  done  so  much  to  assist.  There  forced  itself  into  his 
naturally  slow-moving  but  rather  accurate  mind  a  sense 
of  the  distinction  and  charm  of  his  daughter — a  consider 
ably  sharper  picture  than  he  had  ever  had  before,  and  at 
the  same  time  a  keener  understanding  of  the  personality 
of  Frank  Algernon  Cowperwood.  How  was  it  he  had 
failed  to  detect  any  of  the  real  subtlety  of  this  man? 
How  was  it  he  had  never  seen  any  sign  of  it,  if  there  had 
been  anything  between  Cowperwood  and  Aileen  ?  Parents 
are  frequently  inclined,  because  of  a  time-flattered  sense 
of  security,  to  take  their  children  for  granted.  Nothing 
ever  has  happened,  so  nothing  ever  will  happen.  They 
see  their  children  every  day,  and  through  the  eyes  of 
affection;  and  despite  their  natural  charm  and  their  own 
strong  parental  love,  the  children  are  apt  to  become  not 
only  commonplaces,  but  ineffably  secure  against  evil. 
Mary  is  naturally  a  good  girl — a  little  wild,  but  what 
harm  can  befall  her?  John  is  a  straightforward,  steady- 
going  boy — how  could  he  get  into  trouble?  They  are 
home  almost  every  evening.  The  astonishment  of  most 
parents  at  the  sudden  accidental  revelation  of  evil  in  con 
nection  with  any  of  their  children  is  almost  invariably 
pathetic.  "My  John!  My  Mary!  Impossible!"  But 
it  is  possible.  Very  possible.  Decidedly  likely.  Some, 
through  lack  of  experience  or  understanding,  or  both,  grow 
hard  and  bitter  on  the  instant.  They  feel  themselves 
astonishingly  abased  in  the  face  of  notable  tenderness  and 
sacrifice.  Others  collapse  and  go  to  pieces  before  the 
grave  manifestation  of  the  insecurity  and  uncertainty  of 
life  and  mortal  chemistry.  Others,  taught  roughly  by 
life,  or  furnished  broadly  by  understanding  or  intuition, 
or  both,  see  in  this  the  latest  manifestation  of  that  in 
comprehensible  chemistry  which  we  call  life  and  person 
ality,  and,  knowing  that  it  is  quite  vain  to  hope  to  gain 
say  it,  save  by  greater  subtlety,  put  the  best  face  they 
can  upon  the  matter  and  call  a  truce  until  they  can  think. 
We  all  know  that  life  is  unsolvable — we  who  think.  The 

360 


THE    FINANCIER 

remainder  imagine  a  vain  thing,  and  are  full  of  sound' 

and  fury  signifying  nothing. 

So  Edward  Butler,  being  a  man  of  much  wit  and  hard, 
grim  experience,  stood  there  on  his  doorstep  holding  in 
his  big,  rough  hand  this  thin  slip  of  cheap  paper  which 
contained  this  terrific  indictment  of  his  daughter.  There 
came  to  him  now  a  picture  of  her  as  she  was  when  she  was 
a  very  little  girl — she  was  his  first  baby  girl — and  how 
keenly  he  had  felt  about  her  all  these  years.  She  was  a 
beautiful  child — her  red-gold  hair  had  been  pillowed  on 
his  breast  many  a  time,  and  his  hard,  rough  hand  and 
fingers  had  stroked  her  soft  cheeks,  lo,  these  thousands 
of  times.  Aileen,  his  lovely,  dashing  daughter  of  twenty- 
three  !  What  a  forceful  girl  she  was — how  aggressive,  how 
sensible,  how  practical!  He  had  been  drawn  to  her  this 
long  time,  much  more  so  than  he  was  to  his  wife  or  Norah, 
his  younger  daughter,  by  the  practical  character  of  the 
mind  concealed  in  her  pretty  head.  She  was  forthright 
and  self -sufficient  and  posy  at  times;  but  she  had  good 
sense,  too,  and  a  will  of  her  own.  That  was  what  always 
pleased  him  most  these  late  years — this  will  of  her  own. 
It  defied  him  sometimes — him  and  his  wife  and  OwTen  and 
Callum — to  say  "no,"  that  she  wouldn't,  or  "yes,"  that 
she  would,  in  spite  of  anything  they  might  say. 

"I  don't  care,"  she  would  declare,  firmly.  " I  know 
what  I  want,  I  won't  do  it." 

"Well,  why  won't  you?" 

"Well,  because  I  won't,— that's  why." 

There  was  no  moving  her  once  her  mind  was  set,  and 
she  was  coming  to  be  very  much  the  master  in  this  house 
hold.  Callum  frequently  asked  her  what  she  thought 
of  the  clothing  he  was  about  to  order  or  purchase.  Norah 
pleaded  with  her  to  intercede  with  her  mother  or  father 
for  her  for  things  that  she  wanted  and  feared  she  could 
not  obtain.  Mrs.  Butler,  the  mother,  constantly  leaned 
on  her  for  advice  in  social  matters.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
Aileen  provided  all  the  social  information  this  household 


THE    FINANCIER 

obtained  or  considered.  Owen  traded  ideas  with  her 
gingerly,  for  he  did  not  quite  understand  her — never  had. 
Butler  loved  her  as  a  big,  strong  man  always  loves  a 
strong,  self-sufficient,  thoroughlyjiuman  woman.  He  was 
drawn  to  her,  to  her  exhibition  of  a  natural  understand 
ing  of  things,  and  yet  he  attempted  to  deceive  himself 
with  the  thought  that  she  could  have  large  understanding 
and  be  a  veritable  simpleton  of  a  girl  into  the  bargain. 
This  tragic  hour  undeceived  him,  and  yet  he  was  not  sure 
that  the  letter  was  not  an  ugly,  malicious  lie.  His 
daughter  Aileen!  Could  it  really  be?  It  couldn't  be! 
And  yet,  that  note!  ''If  you  don't  believe  it,  watch  the 
house  at  931  North  Tenth  Street." 

He  turned  back  and  entered  his  door  again,  thinking 
to  go  to  his  room  and  call  Aileen,  but  he  stayed  himself 
on  the  threshold.  Why  should  he  do  this?  It  might 
not  be  true.  His  daughter  might  expect  that  he  would 
have  more  faith  in  her.  Supposing  it  wasn't  true — 
couldn't  be  proved;  what  would  she  think?  They  were 
more  like  dear  old  friends  than  father  and  daughter. 
She  seemed  to  understand  him,  his  idiosyncrasies,  more 
of  late  than  ever  before.  Was  this  due  to  sorrow  for  her 
concealed  evil — the  injustice  being  done  him  and  his  wife, 
her  mother?  Why  hadn't  she  married?  He  had  urged, 
suggested  so  often.  Wasn't  that  a  point  against  her? 
It  was,  surely. 

He  stood  there  in  his  door  debating  these  things 
uncertainly,  his  broad,  coarse  face  a  study  in  strongly 
modeled,  grim,  sad  lines,  and  then  he  went  out  again. 
Never  in  his  life  had  he  been  thrown  into  so  deep  a  pit 
of  doubt  so  quickly.  He  was  lost  in  dark,  strange,  un 
happy  speculations,  and  he  was  without  any  present 
ability  to  think  or  say  or  do  the  right  thing.  He  did 
not  know  what  the  right  thing  was  at  present,  he  finally 
confessed  to  himself.  Aileen!  Aileen!  His  Aileen!  If 
her  mother  knew  this  it  would  break  her  heart.  She 
mustn't!  She  mustn't!  And  yet  mustn't  she? 

362 


THE    FINANCIER 

The  heart  of  a  father!  The  world  wanders  into  many 
strange  by-paths  of  affection.  The  love  of  a  mother  for 
her  children  is  dominant,  leonine,  selfish,  and  unselfish. 
It  is  concentric.  The  love  of  a  husband  for  his  wife,  or 
of  a  lover  for  his  sweetheart,  is  a  sweet  bond  of  agree 
ment  and  exchange — fair  trade  in  a  lovely  contest.  The 
love  of  a  father  for  his  son  or  daughter,  where  it  is  love  at 
all,  is  a  broad,  generous,  sad,  contemplative  giving  with 
out  thought  of  return,  a  hail  and  farewell  to  a  troubled 
traveler  whom  he  would  do  much  to  guard,  a  balanced 
judgment  of  weakness  and  strength,  with  pity  for  failure 
and  pride  in  achievement.  It  is  a  lovely,  generous,  philo 
sophic  blossom  which  rarely  asks  too  much,  and  seeks 
only  to  give  wisely  and  plentifully.  "That  my  boy  may 
succeed!  That  my  daughter  may  be  happy!"  Who  has 
not  heard  and  dwelt  upon  these  twin  fervors  of  fatherly 
wisdom  and  tenderness? 

As  Butler  drove  down-town  his  huge,  slow-moving,  in 
some  respects  chaotic  mind  turned  over  as  rapidly  as  he 
could  all  of  the  possibilities  in  connection  with  this  unex 
pected,  sad,  and  disturbing  revelation.  Why  had  Cow- 
perwood  not  been  satisfied  with  his  wife  ?  Why  should  he 
neglect  or  endanger  the  reputation  of  his  children  in  this 
way?  Why  should  he  enter  into  his  (Butler's)  home,  of 
all  places,  to  establish  a  clandestine  relationship  of  this 
character?  Was  Aileen  in  any  way  to  blame?  She  was 
an  able,  sufficient,  attractive,  self-willed  girl,  and  was  not 
without  mental  resources  of  her  own.  She  must  have 
known  what  she  was  doing.  She  was  a  good  Catholic, 
or,  at  least,  had  been  raised  so.  All  the  years  she  had  been 
going  regularly  to  confession  and  communion.  True, 
of  late  Butler  had  noticed  that  she  did  not  care  so  much 
about  going  to  church,  would  sometimes  make  excuses 
and  stay  at  home  on  Sundays;  but  she  had  gone,  as  a  rule. 
And  now,  now — his  thoughts  would  come  to  the  end  of  a 
blind  alley,  and  then  he  would  start  back,  as  it  were, 
mentally  to  the  center  of  things,  and  begin  all  over  again. 

363 


THE    FINANCIER 

There  was  another  puzzle.  Why  had  no  signs  of  affec 
tion  ever  been  shown  between  Cowperwood  and  Aileen? 
Aileen  had  never  been  out  evenings  much,  except  with 
Norah,  Callum,  Owen,  her  mother,  or  the  family,  and 
they  always  knew  where  she  was.  She  drove  some. 
Yes,  there  was  one  chance  for  Cowperwood.  And  she 
rode.  There  was  another.  She  took  music-lessons,  and 
she  went  to  the  library — a  private  circulating  library — 
occasionally  afternoons.  Yes,  here  were  the  loopholes 
through  which  she  might  have  escaped.  But  there  had 
never  been  a  sign,  not  a  single  glance,  so  far  as  he  knew. 
Cowperwood  had  rarely  asked  after  her.  He  had  never 
looked  at  her  significantly.  She  had  never  spoken  of  him 
in  a  curious  or  enthusiastic  way.  He  would  have  said 
that  Cowperwood  was  probably  the  one  man  she  was  not 
interested  in.  She  went  to  the  Cowperwood  home  oc 
casionally,  not  so  much  of  late;  and  she  went  down-town 
now  and  then.  Had  she  stopped  in  his  office  to  see  him? 
It  was  a  queer  tangle,  another  blind  alley.  And  so  he 
strolled  back  to  the  central  fact  again — the  letter.  Could 
it  be  true?  Was  Aileen  guilty?  Should  he  ask  her? 
Should  he  accuse  Cowperwood?  What  good  would  that 
do?  It  would  merely  give  them  warning.  They  would 
deny  everything,  and  he  would  have  no  chance  of  finding 
out.  Should  he  watch  her?  What  good  would  that  do? 
If  discovered,  she  might  be  enraged  and  defy  him.  The 
strange  force  of  the  girl's  character  was  lurking  oddly  in 
his  mind.  He  could  not,  try  as  he  would,  think  of  deal 
ing  with  her  as  he  would  with  an  ordinary  girl.  He  must 
get  his  evidence  or  talk  to  her  and  persuade  her  to  confess. 
If  she  broke  down  and  confessed  he  might  attempt  to 
punish  Cowperwood;  but  wasn't  he  going  to  be  punished 
enough  as  it  was?  He  was  probably  going  to  fail.  He 
would  be  punished  that  much,  anyhow,  and  right  away, 
very  likely.  Was  he  anxious  to  kill  him  or  punish  him 
physically?  He  was  too  old  a  man,  too  reverent  a 
Catholic,  too  wise  in  the  ways  of  the  world  to  think  of 

364 


THE    FINANCIER 

any  such  thing.  He  knew  too  much  about  life.  But 
he  was  angry,  hurt,  shamed,  and  disappointed.  Aileen! 
His  Aileen!  How  could  she? 

He  went  up  the  stairs  to  his  own  office  slowly.  He 
went  in  and  sat  down,  and  thought  and  thought.  Ten 
o'clock  came,  and  eleven.  His  son  bothered  him  with  an 
occasional  matter  of  interest,  but,  finding  him  moody, 
finally  abandoned  him  to  his  own  speculations.  It  was 
twelve,  and  then  one,  and  he  was  still  sitting  there  think 
ing,  when  the  presence  of  Frank  A.  Cowperwood  was 
announced. 

Cowperwood,  after  his  herculean  labors  of  the  morn 
ing,  had,  as  has  been  said,  driven  rapidly  to  Butler's 
house;  but,  finding  him  out,  and  not  encountering 
Aileen,  he  had  driven  back  to  Fourth  Street,  and  had 
hurried  up  to  the  office  of  the  Edward  Butler  Contract 
ing  Company,  which  was  also  the  center  of  some  of 
Butler's  street-railway  interests.  The  floor  space  con 
trolled  by  the  company  was  divided  into  the  usual  official 
compartments,  with  sections  for  the  bookkeepers,  the 
road-managers,  the  treasurer,  and  so  on.  Owen  Butler 
and  his  father  had  small  but  attractively  furnished  offices 
in  the  rear,  where  they  transacted  all  the  important  busi 
ness  of  the  company. 

During  this  drive,  curiously,  by  reason  of  one  of  those 
strange  psychologic  intuitions  which  so  often  precede  a 
human  difficulty  of  one  sort  or  another,  Cowperwood  had 
been  thinking  of  Aileen.  He  was  thinking  of  the  pe 
culiarity  of  his  relationship  to  her,  and  of  the  fact  that 
now,  in  spite  of  what  Butler  would  consider  a  great  evil 
done  him  in  respect  to  his  daughter,  he  was  running  to 
him  for  assistance.  He  was  going  to  ask  of  the  man 
whose  daughter  the  world  would  say  he  had  seduced  that 
this  loan  of  one  hundred  thousand  dollars  should  not  be 
called,  and  in  addition  that  Butler  loan  him  one  hundred 
thousand  dollars  more,  if  possible.  Butler  had  of  late 
been  less  generous  in  his  investments  through  Cowper- 

365 


THE    FINANCIER 

wood;  but  he  had  not  entirely  ceased  the  relationship, 
by  any  means,  and  this  additional  loan,  if  he  were  not 
too  frightened  by  current  developments,  would  not  dis 
turb  him  greatly.  The  old  gentleman  was  rich  enough 
to  loan  him  several  hundred  thousand  dollars -if  he  were 
so  minded. 

In  regard  to  Aileen,  Cowperwood  was  satisfied  that  no 
suspicion  of  his  relationship  to  her  had  ever  even  flickered 
into  light ;  and  because  of  her  practical  wisdom  and  his  own 
there  was  small  danger  of  it,  he  thought.  Still,  he  was 
thinking  of  her  this  afternoon,  for  some  reason,  and  of  how 
resentful  her  family  would  be  if  they  knew.  He  had  often 
wondered  what  the  results  would  be  if  that  should  happen, 
though  the  thought  hadn't  troubled  him  any.  Death? 
Scarcely.  They  would  not  risk  a  public  scandal.  Could 
Aileen  be  removed  from  his  influence  and  restrained? 
He  questioned  it.  She  was  too  individual — too  much  of 
a  fighter  herself.  More  than  once  they  had  discussed 
what  she  would  do  in  case  charges  based  on  suspicions 
or  something  less  than  actual  evidence  were  made  against 
her  and  himself. 

"I'd  deny  it,"  declared  Aileen,  heartily.  "I'd  deny 
everything  until  I  knew  what  they  knew." 

"But,  supposing  they  said  that  I  had  said,  for 
instance — "  He  outlined  a  supposititious  case,  trying  to 
fathom  the  extent  of  her  tact  and  caution. 

"I'd  deny  it,"  she  repeated.  "I'd  deny  everything 
until  I  had  positive  proof  that  they  knew.  I'd  never 
admit  anything  more  than  a  foolish  friendship,  under  any 
circumstances,  even  then.  Never!" 

Her  clear  eyes  glowed  with  self -protective  defiance, 
and  he  knew  from  that  time  on  that  they  would  have 
great  difficulty  in  extracting  anything  of  the  truth  from 
her.  Her  version  of  the  Japanese  aphorism  would  have 
been,  "It  is  better  to  lie  much  than  to  suffer  at  all." 

This  afternoon,  therefore,  whenever  he  thought  of  her 
at  odd  moments,  it  was  with  the  feeling  that  all  was  well 

366 


THE    FINANCIER 

in  that  quarter;  but  he  could  not  help  wondering  why  it 
was  that  he  should  be  thinking  at  all  of  her  so  much.  He 
did  not  believe  so  thoroughly  in  pyschic  intuitions,  al 
though  there  were  times  when  he  thought  he  had  them. 
As  he  mounted  the  stairs  to  Butler's  office  he  had  a  pe 
culiar  sense  of  the  untoward;  but  he  could  not,  in  his 
view  of  life,  give  it  countenance.  He  sent  in  his  name, 
and  was  received  in  a  few  moments  by  Mr.  Butler  in  per 
son  ;  but  one  glance  showed  him  that  something  had  gone 
amiss.  Butler  was  not  so  friendly;  his  glance  was  dark, 
and  there  was  a  certain  sternness  to  his  countenance 
which  had  never  previously  been  manifested  there  in 
Cowperwood's  memory.  He  perceived  at  once  that  it 
was  something  different  from  a  mere  intention  to  refuse 
him  aid  and  call  his  loan.  That  could  not  be  a  very  bad 
thing  to  Butler  personally.  He  might  pull  a  long  face, 
but  it  would  not  be  a  hard,  grim,  sad  one,  set  in  such  lines 
as  his  features  now  showed;  and  Butler  was  not  in  the 
habit  of  doing  this  sort  of  thing,  anyhow.  What  was  it? 
Aileen?  The  thought  occurred  to  him,  and  he  stuck  to 
it.  It  must  be  that.  Somebody  had  suggested  something. 
They  had  been  seen  together.  Well,  even  so,  nothing 
could  be  proved.  Butler  would  obtain  no  sign  from  him. 
But  his  loan — that  was  to  be  called,  surely.  And  as  for 
an  additional  loan,  he  could  see  now,  before  a  word  had 
been  said,  that  that  thought  was  useless.  He  would  get 
no  money  here — nor  any  consideration.  Something  had 
happened.  Was  Butler  going  to  tell  him? 

"I  came  to  see  you  about  that  loan  of  yours,  Mr. 
Butler,"  he  observed,  briskly,  with  an  old-time,  jaunty 
air.  You  could  not  have  told  from  his  presence  or  his 
face  that  he  had  heard,  seen,  or  observed  anything  out 
of  the  ordinary  anywhere.  Butler  was  to  him,  apparent 
ly,  his  old-time  recourse,  and  he  expected,  unquestionably, 
all  the  consideration  and  aid  which  one  might  look  for 
in  a  friend  under  such  circumstances. 

Butler,  who  was  alone  in  the  room — Owen  having 
367 


THE    FINANCIER 

gone  into  an  adjoining  room- — merely  stared  at  him  from 
under  his  shaggy  brows. 

"I'll  have  to  have  that  money,"  he  said,  darkly, 
brusquely. 

An  old-time  Irish  rage  suddenly  welled  up  in  his  bosom 
as  he  contemplated  this  jaunty,  sophisticated  undoer  of 
his  daughter's  virtue.  He  fairly  glared  at  him  as  he 
thought  of  him  and  her. 

"I  judged  from  the  way  things  were  going  this  morn 
ing  that  you  might  want  it,"  Cowperwood  replied,  quiet 
ly,  without  sign  of  tremor.  "The  bottom's  out,  I  see." 

"The  bottom's  out,  and  it  '11  not  be  put  back  soon,  I'm 
thinkin'.  I'll  have  to  have  what's  belongin'  to  me  to 
day.  I  haven't  any  time  to  spare." 

"  Very  well,"  replied  Cowperwood,  who  saw  clearly  how 
treacherous  the  situation  was.  The  old  man  was  in  a 
dour  mood.  His  (Cowperwood's)  presence  was  an  irrita 
tion  to  him,  for  some  reason — a  deadly  provocation. 
Cowperwood  felt  clearly  that  it  must  be  Aileen,  that 
Butler  must  know  or  suspect  something.  He  had  best 
close  this  conversation  at  once  and  get  out — not  argue. 
Why  exchange  words  or  make  foolish  inquiries?  The 
least  phrase  might  set  the  fires  blazing.  He  must  pretend 
business  hurry  and  end  this.  "I'm  sorry.  I  thought  I 
might  get  an  extension;  but  that's  all  right.  I  can  get 
the  money,  though.  I'll  send  it  right  over." 

He  turned  and  walked  quickly  to  the  door. 

Butler  got  up.  He  had  thought  to  manage  this  differ 
ently.  He  had  thought  to  denounce  or  even  assault  this 
man.  He  was  about  to  make  some  insinuating  remark 
which  would  compel  an  answer,  some  direct  charge;  but 
Cowperwood  was  out  and  away  as  jaunty  as  ever. 

The  old  man  was  flustered,  enraged,  disappointed.  He 
opened  the  small  office  door  which  led  into  the  adjoining 
room,  and  called,  "Owen!" 

"Yes,  father." 

"  Send  over  to  Cowperwood's  office  and  get  that  money." 
368 


THE    FINANCIER 

"You  decided  to  call  it,  eh?" 

"I  have." 

Owen  was  puzzled  by  the  old  man's  angry  mood.  He 
wondered  what  it  all  meant,  but  thought  he  and  Cowper- 
wood  might  have  had  a  few  words.  He  went  out  to  his 
desk  to  write  a  note  and  call  a  clerk.  Butler  went  to  the 
window  and  stared  out.  He  was  angry,  bitter,  brutal 
in  his  vein. 

"The  dirty  dog!"  he  suddenly  exclaimed  to  himself, 
in  a  low  voice.  "I'll  take  every  dollar  he's  got  before  I'm 
through  with  him.  I'll  send  him  to  jail,  I  will.  I'll 
break  him,  I  will.  Wait!" 

He  clinched  his  big  fists  and  his  teeth. 

"I'll  fix  him.  I'll  show  him.  The  dog!  The  damned 
scoundrel!" 

Never  in  his  life  before  had  he  been  so  bitter,  so  cruel, 
so  relentless  in  his  mood. 

He  walked  his  office  thinking  what  he  could  do;  but 
there  was  nothing  that  he  really  could  do,  apparently. 
He  wanted  to  go  back  to  Aileen  and  see  what  she  had  to 
say.  If  her  face,  or  her  lips,  told  him  that  his  suspicion 
was  true,  he  would  deal  with  Cowperwood  later.  This 
city  treasury  business,  now.  It  was  not  a  crime  in  so 
far  as  Cowperwood  was  concerned;  but  it  might  be  made 
to  be.  He  would  see.  Anyhow,  he  was  not  through  with 
Cowperwood.  No,  not  by  these  many,  many  days. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

BUTLER  finally  decided  that  before  his  sons  returned 
for  the  evening  he  would  go  out  to  the  house  and  see 
if  he  could  find  Aileen.  So  nonplussed  was  he  that  he  took 
his  hat  in  a  very  secretive  way  and  slipped  away,  telling  the 
clerk  to  say  to  Owen  that  he  had  gone  down  the  street  for 
a  few  moments.  He  took  a  car  and  rode  out  to  his  house, 
where  he  found  his  elder  daughter  just  getting  ready  to 
leave  on  an  errand  of  some  sort.  She  wore  a  purple- velvet 
street  dress  edged  with  narrow,  flat  gilt  braid,  and  a  striking 
gold-and-purple  turban.  She  had  on  dainty  new  boots  of 
bronze  kid  and  long  gloves  of  lavender  suede.  In  her  ears 
were  one  of  her  latest  affectations,  a  pair  of  long  jet  ear 
rings.  The  old  Irishman  realized,  on  this  occasion,  when  he 
saw  her,  perhaps  as  clearly  as  he  ever  had  in  his  life,  that  he 
had  grown  a  bird  of  rare  plumage,  and  that  it  would  be 
difficult  to  compel  her  to  accept  the  simple  details  of  a 
commonplace  existence  such  as  his  home  offered  and  had 
offered  for  some  years.  She  was  too  high-strung  in  her 
fancies,  perfervid  in  her  tastes.  To-day  her  color  was 
high,  and  she  had  an  air  of  great  force,  as  though  she  were 
experiencing  to  the  utmost  her  exceptional  health  and  vigor. 

"Where  are  you  going,  daughter?"  he  asked,  with  a 
rather  unsuccessful  attempt  to  conceal  his  fear,  distress, 
and  smoldering  anger. 

"To  the  library,"  she  said,  easily,  and  yet  with  a  sud 
den  realization  that  all  was  not  right  with  her  father. 
His  face  was  too  heavy  and  gray.  He  looked  tired  and 
gloomy. 

"Come  up  to  my  office,"  he  said,  "a  minute.  I  want 
to  see  you  before  you  go." 

370 


THE    FINANCIER 

Aileen  heard  this  with  a  strange  feeling  of  curiosity 
and  wonder.  It  was  not  customary  for  Butler  to  want 
to  see  his  daughter  in  his  office  just  when  she  was  going 
out;  and  his  manner  indicated,  in  this  instance,  that  the 
exceptional  procedure  portended  a  strange  revelation  of 
some  kind.  Aileen,  like  every  other  person  who  offends 
against  a  rigid  convention  of  the  time,  was  conscious  of 
and  sensitive  to  the  possible  disastrous  results  which 
would  follow  exposure.  She  had  often  thought  what  her 
family  would  think  if  they  knew  what  she  was  doing; 
she  had  never  been  able  to  satisfy  herself  in  her  mind 
as  to  what  they  would  do.  Her  father  was  a  very  vigorous 
man.  She  had  never  known  him  to  be  cruel  or  cold  in 
his  attitude  toward  her  or  any  other  member  of  the 
family,  but  especially  not  toward  her.  Always  he  seemed 
too  fond  of  her  to  be  completely  alienated  by  anything 
that  might  happen;  yet  she  could  not  be  sure.  This  thing 
that  she  was  doing  was  completely  beyond  any  experi 
ence  which  had  ever  confronted  him  in  his  life,  and  she 
really  could  not  imagine  what  he  would  think  or  do, 
once  he  knew.  As  in  Cowperwood's  case,  his  attitude 
to-day  caused  her  to  feel  that,  by  some  untoward  fling  of 
chance,  he  might  have  become  aware  of  what  she  was 
doing.  "The  wicked  flee  when  no  man  pursueth." 

Butler  led  the  way,  planting  his  big  feet  solemnly  on 
the  steps  as  he  went  up.  Aileen  followed  with  a  single 
glance  at  herself  in  the  tall  pier-mirror  which  stood  in 
the  hall,  realizing  at  once  how  charming  she  looked  and 
how  uncertain  she  was  feeling  about  what  was  to  follow. 
What  could  her  father  want?  It  made  the  color  leave 
her  cheeks  for  the  moment,  as  she  thought  what  he  might 
want. 

Butler  strolled  into  his  stuffy  room  and  sat  down  in 
the  big  leather  chair,  disproportioned  to  everything  else 
in  the  chamber,  but  which,  nevertheless,  accompanied 
his  desk.  Before  him,  against  the  light,  was  the  visitor's 
chair,  in  which  he  liked  to  have  those  sit  whose  faces  he 

37i 


THE    FINANCIER 

was  anxious  to  study.  "When  Aileen  entered  he  motioned 
her  to  it,  which  was  also  ominous  to  her,  and  said,  "Sit 
down  there." 

She  took  the  seat,  not  knowing  what  to  make  of  his 
procedure.  On  the  instant  her  promise  to  Cowperwood 
to  deny  everything,  whatever  happened,  came  back  to 
her.  If  her  father  was  about  to  attack  her  on  that  score, 
he  would  get  no  satisfaction,  she  thought.  He  would  not 
get  any !  She  owed  it  to  Frank.  Her  pretty,  nonplussed 
face  strengthened  and  hardened  on  the  instant.  Her  fine, 
white  teeth  set  in  two  even  rows ;  and  her  father  saw  quite 
plainly  that  she  was  consciously  bracing  herself  for  an 
attack  of  some  kind.  He  feared  by  this  that  she  was 
guilty,  and  he  was  all  the  more  distressed,  ashamed,  out 
raged,  made  wholly  unhappy.  He  fumbled  in  the  left- 
hand  pocket  of  his  coat,  which  never  fitted  him  very  well, 
and  drew  forth  from  among  the  various  papers  the  fatal 
communication  so  cheap  in  its  physical  texture.  His 
big  fingers  fumbled  almost  tremulously  as  he  fished  the 
letter-sheet  out  of  the  small  envelope  and  unfolded  it 
without  saying  a  word.  Aileen  watched  his  face  and  his 
hands,  wondering  what  it  could  be  that  he  had  here, 
uncertain  whether  to  expect  the  worst  or  some  foolish, 
friendly  communication.  She  was  steeling  herself  to  meet 
his  glance,  while  he  was  fixing  himself  to  put  into  practice 
his  usual  tactic  of  watching  her  face  as  she  read  what  he 
was  going  to  show  her.  He  handed  the  paper  over,  small 
in  his  big  fist,  and  said,  "Read  that." 

Aileen  took  it,  and  for  a  second  was  relieved  to  be  able 
to  lower  her  eyes  to  the  paper.  Her  relief  vanished  in  a 
second,  when  she  realized  how  in  a  moment  she  would 
have  to  raise  them  again  and  look  him  in  the  face. 

DEAR  SIR, — This  is  to  warn  you  that  your  daughter  Aileen  is 
running  around  with  a  man  that  she  shouldn't — Frank  A.  Cowper 
wood,  the  banker.  If  you  don't  believe  it,  watch  the  house  at  931 
North  Tenth  Street.  Then  you  can  see  for  yourself. 

372 


THE    FINANCIER 

In  spite  of  herself  Aileen's  hands  shook  for  the  least 
fraction  of  a  second  as  she  steeled  herself  to  withstand 
this  blow.  The  color  fled  from  her  cheeks  instantly,  only 
to  come  back  in  a  hot,  defiant  wave. 

"Why,  what  a  lie!"  she  said,  lifting  her  eyes  to  her 
father's.  "To  think  that  any  one  should  write  such  a 
thing  of  me!  How  dare  they!  I  think  it's  a  shame!" 

Old  Butler  looked  at  her  narrowly,  solemnly.  He  was 
not  deceived  to  any  extent  by  her  bravado.  If  she  were 
really  innocent,  he  knew  she  would  have  jumped  to  her 
feet  in  her  defiant  way.  Protest  would  have  been  written 
all  over  her.  As  it  was,  she  only  stared  haughtily.  He 
read  through  her  eager  defiance  to  the  guilty  truth. 

"How  do  ye  know,  daughter,  that  I  haven't  had  the 
house  watched?"  he  said,  quizzically.  "How  do  ye  know 
that  ye  haven't  been  seen  goin'  in  there?" 

Only  Aileen's  solemn  promise  to  her  lover  could  have 
saved  her  from  tJiis  subtle  thrust.  As  it  was,  she  paled 
nervously;  but  she  saw  Frank  Cowperwood,  solemn  and 
distinguished,  asking  her  what  she  would  say  if  she  were 
caught. 

"It's  a  lie!"  she  said,  catching  her  breath.  "I  wasn't 
at  any  house  at  that  number,  and  no  one  saw  me  going 
in  there.  How  can  you  ask  me  that,  father?" 

In  spite  of  his  mixed  feelings  of  uncertainty  and  yet 
unshakable  belief  that  his  daughter  was  guilty,  he  could 
not  help  admiring  her  courage — she  was  so  defiant,  as  she 
sat  there,  so  set  in  her  determination  to  lie  and  thus  de 
fend  herself.  Her  beauty  helped  her  in  his  mood,  raised 
her  in  his  esteem.  After  all,  what  could  you  do  with  a 
woman  of  this  kind?  She  was  not  a  ten-year-old  girl 
any  more,  as  in  a  way  he  sometimes  continued  to  fancy 
her. 

"Ye  oughtn't  to  say  that  if  it  isn't  true,  Aileen,"  he 
said.  "Ye  oughtn't  to  lie.  It's  against  your  faith. 
Why  would  anybody  write  a  letter  like  that  if  it  wasn't 
so?" 

373 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

"But  it's  not  so,"  insisted  Aileen,  pretending  anger  and 
outraged  feeling,  "and  I  don't  think  you  have  any  right 
to  sit  there  and  say  that  to  me.  I  haven't  been  there, 
and  I'm  not  running  around  with  Mr.  Cowperwood. 
Why,  I  hardly  know  the  man  except  in  a  social  way." 

Butler  shook  his  head  solemnly. 

"It's  a  great  blow  to  me,  daughter.  It's  a  great  blow 
to  me,"  he  said.  "I'm  willing  to  take  your  word  if  ye  say 
so;  but  I  can't  help  thinkin'  what  a  sad  thing  it  would  be 
if  ye  were  lyin'  to  me.  I  haven't  had  the  house  watched, 
because  I  love  ye  too  much  for  that.  And  what's  writ 
ten  here  may  not  be  so.  But  we'll  not  say  any  more  about 
that  now.  If  there  is  any  thin'  in  it,  and  ye  haven't  gone 
too  far  yet  to  save  yourself,  I  want  ye  to  think  of  your 
mother  and  your  sister  and  your  brothers,  and  be  a 
good  girl.  Think  of  the  church  ye  was  raised  in,  and 
the  name  we've  got  to  stand  up  for  in  the  world.  Why, 
if  ye  were  doin'  anythin'  wrong,  and  the  people  of 
Philadelphy  got  a  hold  of  it,  the  city,  big  as  it  is,  wouldn't 
be  big  enough  to  hold  us.  Your  brothers  have  got  a 
reputation  to  make,  their  work  to  do  here.  Ye  and 
your  sister  want  to  get  married  sometime.  How  could 
ye  expect  to  look  the  world  in  the  face  and  do  anythin' 
at  all,  if  ye  are  doin'  what  this  letter  says  ye  are,  and 
it  was  told  about  ye?" 

The  old  man's  voice  was  thick  with  a  strange,  sad,  alien 
emotion.  He  did  not  want  to  believe  that  his  daughter 
was  guilty,  even  though  he  knew  she  was.  He  did  not 
want  to  face  what  he  considered  in  his  vigorous,  religious 
way  to  be  his  duty,  that  of  reproaching  her  sternly. 
There  were  some  fathers  who  would  have  turned  her  out, 
he  fancied.  There  were  others  who  might  possibly  kill 
Cowperwood  after  a  subtle  investigation.  This  course 
was  not  for  him.  If  vengeance  he  was  to  have,  it  must 
be  through  politics  and  finance — he  must  drive  him  out. 
But  as  for  doing  anything  desperate  in  connection  with 
Aileen,  he  could  not  think  of  it. 

374 


THE    FINANCIER 

"Oh,  father,"  returned  Aileen,  with  considerable  his 
trionic  ability  in  her  assumption  of  pettishness,  "how 
can  you  talk  like  this  when  you  know  I'm  not  guilty? 
When  I  tell  you  so?" 

The  old  Irishman  saw  through  her  make-believe  with 
profound  sadness — the  feeling  that  one  of  his  dearest 
hopes  had  been  shattered.  He  had  believed  so  stead 
fastly  in  her  social  virtue  as  he  understood  that  quality. 
To  see  her  coloring  and  pretending  here  was  too  terrible. 
He  had  expected  so  much  of  her  socially  and  matri 
monially.  Why,  any  one  of  a  dozen  remarkable  young 
men  might  have  .married  her,  and  she  would  have  had 
lovely  children  to  comfort  him  in  his  old  age.  Was  that 
gone,  as  many  another  important  thing  had  gone  in  this 
world  (as  they  go  for  all  of  us),  leaving  his  hope  un 
satisfied  ? 

"Well,  we'll  not  talk  any  more  about  it  now,  daughter," 
he  said,  wearily.  "Ye've  been  so  much  to  me  during 
all  these  years  that  I  can  scarcely  belave  any  thin'  wrong 
of  ye.  I  don't  want  to,  God  knows.  Ye're  a  grown 
woman,  though,  now;  and  if  ye  are  doin'  anythin' 
wrong  I  don't  suppose  I  could  do  so  much  to  stop  ye. 
I  might  turn  ye  out,  of  course,  as  many  a  father  would; 
but  I  wouldn't  like  to  do  anythin'  like  that.  But  if  ye 
are  doin'  anythin'  wrong" — and  he  put  up  his  hand  to 
stop  a  proposed  protest  on  the  part  of  Aileen — "remem 
ber,  I'm  certain  to  find  it  out  in  the  long  run,  and 
Philadelphy  won't  be  big  enough  to  hold  me  and  the  man 
that's  done  this  thing  to  me.  I'll  get  him,"  he  said, 
getting  up  dramatically.  "I'll  get  him,  and  when  I  do — 
He  turned  a  livid  face  to  the  wall,  and  Aileen  saw  clearly 
that  Cowperwood,  in  addition  to  any  other  troubles  which 
might  beset  him,  had  her  father  to  deal  with.  Was  this 
why  Frank  had  looked  so  sternly  at  her  the  night  before  ? 
Was  this  why  his  face  was  so  set?  He  had  not  told  her. 

"Why, tyour  mother  would  die  of  a  broken  heart  if 
she  thought  there  was  anybody  could  say  the  least  word 

375 


THE    FINANCIER 

against  ye,"  pursued  Butler,  in  a  shaken  voice.  "This 
man  has  a  family — a  wife  and  children.  Ye  oughtn't 
to  want  to  do  anythin'  to  hurt  them.  They'll  have 
trouble  enough,  if  I'm  not  mistaken  —  facin'  what's 
comin'  to  them  in  the  future,"  and  Butler's  jaw  hardened 
just  a  little.  "Ye're  a  beautiful  girl.  Ye're  young. 
Ye  have  money.  There're  dozens  of  young  men'd  be 
proud  to  make  ye  their  wife.  Whatever  ye  may  be 
thiiikin'  or  doin',  don't  throw  away  your  life.  Don't 
destroy  your  immortal  soul.  Don't  break  my  heart 
entirely." 

Aileen,  not  ungenerous — fool  of  mingled  affection  and 
passion — could  now  have  cried.  She  pitied  her  father 
from  her  heart;  but  her  allegiance  was  to  Cowperwood, 
her  loyalty  unshaken.  She  wanted  to  say  something,  to 
protest  much  more;  but  she  knew  that  it  was  useless. 
Her  father  knew  that  she  was  lying. 

"Well,  there's  no  use  of  my  saying  anything  more, 
father,"  she  said,  getting  up.  The  light  of  day  was  fading 
in  the  windows.  The  down-stairs  door  closed  with  a  light 
slam,  showing  that  one  of  the  boys  had  come  in.  Her 
proposed  trip  to  the  library  was  now  without  interest  to 
her.  "You  won't  believe  me,  anyhow.  I  tell  you, 
though,  that  I'm  innocent  just  the  same." 

Butler  lifted  his  big,  brown  hand  to  command  silence, 
to  indicate  that  he  did  not  care  to  hear  any  more.  She 
saw  that  this  shameful  relationship,  so  far  as  her  father 
was  concerned,  had  been  made  quite  clear,  and  that  this 
trying  conference  was  now  at  an  end.  She  turned  and 
walked  shamefacedly  out.  He  waited  until  he  heard  her 
steps  fading  into  faint  nothings  down  the  hall  toward  her 
room. 

Then  he  arose.     Once  more  he  clinched  his  big  fists. 

"The  scoundrel!"  he  said.  "The  scoundrel!  I'll 
drive  him  out  of  Philadelphy,  if  it  takes  the  last  dollar 
I  have  in  the  world."  His  parental  love  was  back  of  his 
anger. 

376 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

THAT  five  minutes  that  Cowperwood  had  spent  in 
Butler's  presence  was  one  of  the  most  illuminating 
that  had  occurred  to  him  recently.  For  the  first  time 
in  his  life  he  was  in  the  presence  of  that  interesting  social 
phenomenon,  the  outraged  sentiment  of  a  parent.  He 
himself  was  a  father,  the  possessor  of  two  rather  in 
teresting  children.  The  boy,  Frank,  Jr.,  was  to  him  not 
so  remarkable.  But  Lillian,  second,  with  her  dainty  little 
slip  of  a  body  and  bright,  hair-aureoled  head,  had  always 
appealed  to  him.  She  was  going  to  be  a  charming 
woman  some  day,  he  thought,  and  he  was  going  to  do 
much  to  establish  her  safely.  He  used  to  tell  her  that 
she  had  "eyes  like  blue  buttons,"  "feet  like  a  pussy  cat," 
and  "hands  that  were  just  five  cents'  worth,"  they  were 
so  little.  The  child  admired  her  father,  and  would  often 
stand  by  his  chair  in  the  library  or  the  sitting-room,  or  his 
desk  in  his  private  office,  when  he  worked  at  peculiar 
columns  of  figures,  at  times,  or  by  his  seat  at  the  table, 
asking  him  questions. 

"  Papa,  do  they,  now,  in  fractions — do  they,  now,  multi 
ply  the  numerators  together  first?" 

"Yes,  now,  little  girlie,  now — they  do,  now,"  he  used 
to  mock  her,  chucking  her  under  the  chin  or  squeezing 
her  waist. 

"Now,  papa,  now,  I  don't  think  that's  any  way  to 
talk,  now.  Is  it,  mama?" 

"You'd  better  not  bother  your  father  any  longer," 
Mrs.  Cowperwood  would  conservatively  reply.  "Come 
round  here  and  sit  down.  Your  soup  is  getting  cold." 

"Now,  I  don't  either,  now,"  was  Cowperwood's  reply, 
13  377 


THE    FINANCIER 

rather  gaily  if  not  attentively  put,  answering  her  original 
protests. 

This  attitude  toward  his  own  daughter  made  him  see 
clearly  how  Butler  might  feel  toward  Aileen.  The  old 
Irishman  had  probably  had  just  such  sympathetic  ex 
periences  with  his  children  as  Cowperwood  was  having 
with  his.  He  wondered  how  he  would  feel  if  it  were  his 
own  little  Lillian,  and  still  he  did  not  believe  he  would 
make  much  fuss  over  the  matter,  either  with  himself  or 
with  her,  if  she  were  as  old  as  Aileen.  Children  and  their 
lives  were  more  or  less  above  the  willing  of  parents,  any 
how,  and  it  would  be  a  difficult  thing  for  any  parent  to 
control  any  child,  unless  the  child  were  naturally  docile- 
minded  and  willing  to  be  controlled.  As  he  drove  away 
from  Butler's  office  he  had  no  absolute  knowledge  as  to 
why  the  latter  had  been  so  enraged,  but  he  felt  certain 
that  Aileen  was  the  reason.  At  any  rate,  he  must  take 
considerable  thought  of  this  added  complication.  In 
stead  of  a  friend  in  Butler,  he  now  had  an  enemy  to  fight, 
and  Butler  was  very  powerful.  It  almost  made  him  smile, 
in  a  grim  way,  to  see  how  fate  was  raining  difficulties  on 
him.  He  was  distressed,  too,  about  Aileen — what  she 
would  say  and  do  if  she  were  confronted  by  her  father. 
If  he  could  only  get  to  see  her !  But  if  he  met  Butler's  call 
for  his  loan,  and  the  others  which  would  come  yet  to 
day  or  on  the  morrow,  there  was  not  a  moment  to  lose. 
If  he  did  not  pay  he  must  assign  at  once.  Many  person 
alities  had  occurred  to  him  even  as  he  stood  before  But 
ler,  to  whom  he  might  or  must  appeal.  You  would  sup 
pose  that  all  of  his  thoughts  would  have  been  concerned 
with  Butler's  rage,  Aileen,  his  own  danger.  Not  so. 
He  was  thinking  of  these  things  quickly,  incidentally; 
but  his  mind  never  wavered  from  the  main  point,  which 
was  to  save  himself  financially.  With  wealth  one  can 
do  almost  anything  to  protect  oneself.  Without  it — 
well,  that  is  another  story.  Wealth,  the  position,  and 
force  which  means  give,  was  to  him  as  his  right  arm.  He 

378 


THE    FINANCIER 

must  have  it  or  be  crippled  until,  to  vary  the  simile,  he 
could,  like  the  lobster,  grow  another  claw.  He  hurried 
to  visit  George  Waterman;  David  Wiggin,  his  wife's 
brother,  who  was  now  fairly  well  to  do;  Joseph  Zimmer 
man,  the  wealthy,  dry-goods  dealer  who  had  dealt  with 
him  in  the  past;  Judge  Kitchen,  a  private  manipulator 
of  considerable  wealth;  Frederick  Van  Nostrand,  the 
State  treasurer,  who  was  interested  in  local  street-railway 
stocks,  and  others.  He  was  determined  that  he  would 
not  dispose  of  his  street-railway  holdings  at  any  price. 
He  would  suspend  first,  though  it  was  a  disastrous  thing 
to  do,  and  the  chances  were  that  they  would  be  sold  out 
at  a  sacrifice.  But  before  that  he  would  go  to  Stener 
again,  to  see  if  he  could  not  frighten  him  into  coming  to 
his  rescue.  He  went  by  turns  to  all  the  people  he  had  in 
mind,  laying  the  situation  in  which  he  found  himself 
rapidly  before  them.  Of  all  those  to  whom  he  appealed 
one  was  actually  not  in  a  position  to  do  anything  for 
him;  another  was  afraid;  a  third  was  calculating  eagerly 
to  drive  a  hard  bargain;  a  fourth  was  too  deliberate, 
anxious  to  have  much  time.  All  scented  the  true  value 
of  his  situation,  all  wanted  time  to  consider,  and  he  had 
no  time  to  consider. 

Judge  Kitchen  did  agree  to  lend  him  thirty  thousand 
dollars — a  paltry  sum.  Joseph  Zimmerman  would  only 
risk  twenty-five  thousand  dollars,  when  he  should  have 
loaned  him  two  hundred  thousand  dollars.  It  was  quite 
the  same  in  the  other  cases.  He  could  see  where,  all  told, 
he  might  raise  seventy-five  thousand  dollars  by  hypothe 
cating  double  the  amount  in  shares;  but  this  was  ridicu 
lously  insufficient.  He  had  figured  again,  to  a  dollar, 
and  he  must  have  at  least  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
dollars  above  all  his  present  holdings,  or  he  must  close 
his  doors.  To-morrow  at  two  o'clock  he  would  know. 
If  he  didn't  he  would  be  written  down  as  "failed"  on 
a  score  of  ledgers  in  Philadelphia.  What  a  pretty  pass  for 
one  to  come  to  whose  hopes  had  so  recently  run  so  high! 

379 


THE    FINANCIER 

There  was  a  loan  of  one  hundred  thousand  dollars  from 
the  Girard  National  Bank  which  he  was  particularly  anx 
ious  to  clear  off.  This  bank  was  the  most  distinguished 
in  the  city,  and  if  he  retained  its  friendship  by  meeting 
this  loan  promptly  he  might  hope  for  very  many  valuable 
favors  in  the  future,  whatever  happened.  Mr.  Davison, 
the  president  of  the  bank,  had  been  most  agreeable  to  him 
in  the  past.  He  had  suggested  ways  and  means  of  raising 
money  when  Cowperwood  had  not  always  been  able  to 
think  of  them  at  the  moment.  He  had  recommended 
him  to  other  banks,  had  called  at  his  house  socially,  and 
in  other  ways,  by  his  friendship,  had  tended  to  make  his 
various  deals  possible  and  secure.  The  loss  of  the  friend 
ship  of  Mr.  Davison  would  be  most  serious.  Supposing 
he  did  fail.  Mr.  Davison,  by  his  good-will,  might  help 
him  to  get  on  his  feet  again.  It  was  most  necessary  to 
meet  this  loan,  because  it  meant  much  to  him  in  future 
patronage;  and  yet,  at  the  moment,  Cowperwood  did  not 
see  how  he  could  do  it.  He  decided,  however,  after  some 
reflection  that  he  would  deliver  the  stocks  which  Judge 
Kitchen,  Zimmerman,  and  others  had  agreed  to  take  and 
get  their  checks  or  cash  yet  this  night.  Then  he  would 
persuade  Stener  to  let  him  have  a  check  for  the  sixty 
thousand  dollars'  worth  of  city  loan  he  had  purchased 
this  morning  on  'change.  Out  of  it  he  could  take  twenty- 
five  thousand  dollars  to  make  up  the  balance  due  Presi 
dent  Davison,  and  so  retain  the  friendship  of  the  latter 
at  least,  and  still  have  thirty-five  thousand  for  himself, 
free  and  clear,  which  he  needed  badly. 

The  one  unfortunate  thing  about  such  an  arrangement 
was  that  by  it  he  was  building  up  a  rather  complicated 
situation  in  regard  to  these  same  certificates.  Since 
their  purchase  in  the  morning,  he  had  not  deposited  them 
in  the  sinking-fund,  where  they  belonged  (they  had  been 
delivered  to  his  office  by  half  past  one  in  the  afternoon), 
but,  on  the  contrary,  had  immediately  hypothecated  them 
to  cover  another  loan.  It  was  a  risky  thing  to  have 

380 


THE    FINANCIER 

done,  considering  that  he  was  in  danger  of  failing  and  that 
he  was  not  absolutely  sure  of  being  able  to  take  them 
up  in  time — he  could  not  tell  how  this  storm  would 
eventuate. 

But,  he  reasoned,  he  had  a  working  agreement  with 
the  city  treasurer,  illegal  of  course,  which  would  make 
such  a  transaction  rather  plausible,  and  almost  all  right, 
even  if  he  failed,  and  that  was  that  none  of  his  accounts 
were  supposed  necessarily  to  be  put  straight  until  the  end 
of  the  month.  If  he  did  it  by  then,  all  was  customarily 
all  right.  In  this  case,  if  he  failed  and  the  certificates 
were  not  in  the  sinking-fund,  he  could  say,  as  was  the 
truth,  that  he  was  in  the  habit  of  taking  his  time,  and 
had  forgotten.  This  collecting  of  a  check,  therefore,  for 
these  as  yet  undeposited  certificates  would  be  technically, 
if  not  legally  and  morally,  plausible.  The  city  would 
only  be  out  an  additional  sixty  thousand  dollars — making 
five  hundred  and  sixty  thousand  dollars  all  told,  which  in 
view  of  its  probable  loss  of  five  hundred  thousand  did  not 
make  so  much  difference.  But  his  caution  clashed  with 
his  need  on  this  occasion,  and  he  decided  that  he  would 
not  call  for  the  check  unless  Stener  finally  refused  to  aid 
him  with  three  hundred  thousand  more,  in  which  case  he 
would  claim  it  as  his  right.  In  all  likelihood  Stener  would 
not  think  to  ask  whether  the  certificates  were  in  the 
sinking-fund  or  not.  If  he  did,  he  would  have  to  lie — that 
was  all. 

He  drove  rapidly  back  to  his  office,  and,  finding  Butler's 
note,  as  he  expected,  wrote  a  check  on  his  father's  bank  for 
the  one  hundred  thousand  dollars  which  had  been  placed 
there  to  his  credit  by  his  loving  parent,  and  sent  it  around 
to  Butler's  office.  There  was  another  note,  from  Mr. 
Stener's  secretary,  Mr.  Albert  Stires,  advising  him  not  to 
buy  or  sell  any  more  city  loan — that  until  further  notice 
such  transactions  would  not  be  honored.  Cowperwood 
immediately  sensed  the  source  of  this  warning.  Stener 
had  been  in  conference  with  Butler  or  Mollenhauer,  and 

381 


THE    FINANCIER 

had  been  warned  and  frightened.  Nevertheless,  he  pro 
posed  to  go  to  him  again.  It  was  his  last  recourse.  He 
got  in  his  buggy  again  and  drove  directly  to  the  city 
treasurer's  office. 

Since  Cowperwood's  visit  in  the  morning  Stener  had 
talked  still  more  with  Mr.  Sengstack,  Mr.  Strobik,  and 
others,  all  sent  to  see  that  a  proper  fear  of  things  financial 
had  been  put  in  his  heart.  The  result  was  decidedly 
one  which  spelled  opposition  to  Cowperwood. 

Strobik  was  considerably  disturbed  himself.  He  and 
Wycrof t  and  Harmon  had  also  been  using  money  out  of  the 
treasury — much  smaller  sums,  of  course,  for  they  had  not 
Cowperwood's  financial  imagination — and  they  were  dis 
turbed  as  to  how  they  would  return  what  they  owed 
before  the  storm  broke.  If  Cowperwood  failed,  and 
Stener  was  short  in  his  accounts,  the  whole  budget  might 
be  investigated,  and  then  their  loans  would  be  brought 
to  light.  The  thing  to  do  was  to  return  what  they  owed, 
and  then,  at  least,  no  charge  of  malfeasance  would  lie 
against  them.  They  were  very  much  concerned,  and  did 
raise  considerable  of  what  they  owed  by  noon  the  next 
day,  which  was  credited  on  the  treasurer's  books,  but  at 
this  date  these  unseemly  transactions  were  not  entirely 
closed.  The  matter  of  Cowperwood  was  still  exceedingly 
significant  to  Strobik,  and  he  thought  hard. 

"Go  to  Mollenhauer,"  he  said  to  Stener,  shortly  after 
Cowperwood  had  left  the  latter 's  office,  "and  tell  him  the 
whole  story.  He  put  you  here.  He  was  strong  for  your 
nomination.  Tell  him  just  where  you  stand  and  ask  him 
what  to  do.  He'll  probably  be  able  to  tell  you.  Offer 
him  your  holdings  to  help  you  out.  You  have  to.  You 
can't  help  yourself.  Don't  loan  Cowperwood  another 
damned  dollar,  whatever  you  do.  He's  got  you  in  so  deep 
now  you  can  hardly  hope  to  get  out.  Ask  Mollenhauer 
if  he  won't  help  you  to  get  Cowperwood  to  put  that  money 
back.  He  may  be  able  to  influence  him."  This  last  was 
advice  Sengstack  had  advised  Strobik  to  give  Stener. 

382 


THE    FINANCIER 

There  was  more  in  this  conversation  to  the  same  effect, 
and  then  Stener  hurried  as  fast  as  his  legs  could  carry 
him  to  the  office  of  Henry  A.  Mollenhauer,  in  Market 
Street.  He  was  so  frightened  that  he  could  scarcely 
breathe,  and  he  was  quite  ready  to  throw  himself  on  his 
knees  before  the  big  German-American  financier  and 
leader.  Oh,  if  Mr.  Mollenhauer  would  only  help  him!  he 
thought.  If  he  could  just  get  out  of  this  without  going 
to  jail !  His  house,  his  real  estate,  his  holdings  in  Cowper- 
wood's  and  Strobik's  and  Harmon's  affairs — Mollenhauer 
could  have  them  all  if  only  he,  Stener,  were  not  sent  to 
jail.  The  thought  of  the  grim,  gray  walls  of  the  Eastern 
Penitentiary,  which  he  frequently  passed  coming  down 
town  from  his  outlying  home,  looming  hard  and  cold 
against  their  commonplace  background,  frightened  him. 
He  had  read  in  the  papers  of  the  nature  of  the  solitary  con 
finement  endured  there  by  convicts  who  had  been  sen 
tenced  for  offenses  in  no  way  worse  than  his.  He  was 
not  guilty  actually — other  treasurers  had  done  as  he  had 
done;  but  the  Chicago  fire  and  Cowperwood's  impending 
failure  made  it  look  so  bad.  The  money  was  not  in  the 
treasury,  that  was  one  thing  sure.  He  had  loaned  it  out 
without  legal  authority  from  the  city  or  the  State.  It  was 
gone  unless  Cowperwood  brought  it  back,  and  he  was  a 
criminal.  Great  heavens,  think  of  that !  It  was  a  warm 
October  day,  the  sun  shining  brightly,  but  the  perspiration 
on  his  brow  and  hands  and  neck  was  ice-cold. 

"Oh,  Lord!  Oh,  Lord!  Oh,  Lord!"  he  repeated,  over 
and  over  to  himself,  as  he  walked.  "What  shall  I  do?" 

The  attitude  of  Henry  A.  Mollenhauer,  grim,  political 
boss  that  he  was — trained  in  a  hard  school — was  precisely 
the  attitude  of  every  such  man  in  all  such  trying  but 
somewhat  self -advantaging  circumstances.  In  a  way 
Stener  was  his  appointee.  Stener  had  carried  out  Mol- 
lenhauer's  political  orders  at  the  time  the  big  political 
leader  wanted  to  realize  on  his  large  holdings  of  city  war 
rants — the  time  he  had  sent  Stener  to  Cowperwood;  but 

383 


THE    FINANCIER 

he  had  not  imagined  that  Stener's  efforts  to  create  and 
sell  city  loan,  in  order  to  take  up  his  holdings  of  city  war 
rants  at  a  good  price,  would  result  in  any  such  relationship 
as  existed  at  present  between  Stener  and  Cowperwood. 
What  Butler  and,  later,  Strobik  had  told  him  concerning 
the  condition  of  affairs  in  the  city  treasurer's  office  had 
surprised  him  greatly.  He  did  not  give  Stener  credit  for 
so  much  shrewdness  and  daring,  and  could  see  at  once 
that  it  must  be  Cowperwood. 

When  Stener  was  shown  in  on  this  very  catastrophic 
Monday  afternoon,  Mollenhauer  was  cool,  meditative, 
smiling — except  in  Stener's  presence.  He  was  wondering, 
in  view  of  what  Butler  had  told  him,  in  just  how  much  he 
could  advantage  himself  in  this  situation  by  acquiring 
additional  street-railway  stock.  If  he  could,  he  wanted  to 
get  control  of  what  Stener  now  had  (through  Cowper- 
wood's  skill)  without  in  any  way  compromising  himself. 
Stener's  shares  could  easily  be  transferred  on  'change 
through  his  (Mollenhauer's)  brokers  to  a  dummy,  who 
would  eventually  transfer  them  to  himself  (Mollenhauer). 
Stener  must  be  squeezed  thoroughly,  though,  this  afternoon, 
and  as  for  his  five  hundred  thousand  dollars'  indebted 
ness  to  the  treasury,  Mr.  Mollenhauer  did  not  see  what 
could  be  done  about  that.  If  Cowperwood  could  not 
pay  it,  the  city  would  have  to  lose  it;  but  the  scandal 
must  be  hushed  up  until  after  election.  Stener,  unless  the 
various  party  leaders  had  more  generosity  than  Mollen 
hauer  imagined,  would  have  to  suffer  exposure,  arrest,  trial, 
confiscation  of  his  property,  and  possibly  sentence  to  the 
penitentiary,  though  this  might  easily  be  commuted  by 
the  governor,  once  public  excitement  died  down.  He  did 
not  trouble  to  think  whether  Cowperwood  was  criminally 
involved  or  not.  A  hundred  to  one  he  was  not.  Trust  a 
shrewd  man  like  that  to  take  care  of  himself.  But  if 
there  were  any  way  to  shoulder  the  blame  onto  Cowper 
wood,  and  so  clear  the  treasurer  and  the  skirts  of  the  party, 
he  would  not  object  to  that.  He  wanted  to  hear  the  full 

384 


THE    FINANCIER 

story  of  Stener's  relations  with  the  broker  first.  He  did 
not  believe  it  could  be  done;  but  he  would  see.  More 
talks  were  eventually  coming  between  himself,  Butler, 
and  Simpson.  Meanwhile,  the  thing  to  do  was  to  seize 
what  Stener  had  to  yield. 

The  troubled  city  treasurer,  on  being  shown  into  Mr. 
Mollenhauer's  presence,  at  once  sank  feebly  in  a  chair 
and  collapsed.  He  was  entirely  done  for  mentally.  His 
nerve  was  gone,  his  courage  exhausted  like  a  breath. 

"Well,  Mr.  Stener?"  queried  Mr.  Mollenhauer,  im 
pressively,  pretending,  even  though  he  had  sent  Sengstack, 
not  to  know  what  brought  him. 

"I  came  about  this  matter  of  my  loans  to  Mr.  Cowper- 
wood." 

Mr.  Mollenhauer  had  kept  Mr.  Stener  waiting  a  full 
half-hour,  in  order  to  melt  him,  and  he  was  properly 
melted. 

"Well,  what  about  them?" 

"Well,  he  owes  me,  or  the  city  treasury  rather,  five 
hundred  thousand  dollars,  and  I  understand  that  he  is 
going  to  fail  and  that  he  can't  pay  it  back." 

"Who  told  you  that?" 

"Mr.  Sengstack,  and  since  then  Mr.  Cowperwood  has 
been  to  see  me.  He  tells  me  that  I  will  have  to  loan  him 
some  more  money  to  help  him  out.  He  wants  to  borrow 
three  hundred  thousand  dollars  more.  He  says  he  must 
have  it." 

"So!"  said  Mr.  Mollenhauer,  impressively,  and  with  an 
air  of  astonishment  which  he  did  not  feel.  "You  would  not 
think  of  doing  that,  of  course.  You're  badly  involved  as  it 
is.  If  he  wants  to  know  why,  refer  him  to  me.  Don't 
advance  him  another  dollar.  If  you  do,  and  this  case 
comes  to  trial,  no  court  would  have  any  mercy  on  you. 
It's  going  to  be  difficult  enough  to  do  anything  for  you 
as  it  is." 

At  this  suggestion  of  mercy,  possible  aid,  George  Stener, 
hopeless  infant  that  he  was  financially,  slipped  from  his 

385 


THE    FINANCIER 

chair,  which  was  facing  Mollenhauer's,  and  to  which  the 
latter  had  waved  him  on  entering,  to  his  knees  and  folded 
his  hands  in  the  uplifted  attitude  of  a  devotee  before  a 
sacred  image. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Mollenhauer,"  he  choked,  beginning  to  cry, 
"I  didn't  mean  to  do  anything  wrong.  Strobik  and  Wy- 
croft  told  me  it  was  all  right.  You  sent  me  to  Mr.  Cow- 
perwood  in  the  first  place.  I  only  did  what  I  thought 
the  others  had  been  doing.  Mr.  Bode  did  it,  just  like  I 
have  been  doing.  He  dealt  with  Tighe  and  Company. 
I  have  a  wife  and  four  children,  Mr.  Mollenhauer.  My 
youngest  boy  is  only  seven  years  old.  Think  of  them, 
Mr.  Mollenhauer !  Think  of  what  my  arrest  will  mean  to 
them !  I  don't  want  to  go  to  jail.  I  didn't  think  I  was 
doing  anything  very  wrong — honestly  I  didn't.  I'll  give 
up  all  I've  got.  You  can  have  my  stocks  and  houses 
and  lots — anything — if  you'll  only  get  me  out  of  this. 
You  won't  let  'em  send  me  to  jail,  will  you?" 

His  fat,  white  lips  were  trembling — wabbling  nervously 
— and  big,  hot  tears  were  coursing  down  his  previously 
pale  but  now,  from  exciting  prayer,  flushed  cheeks.  He 
presented  one  of  those  almost  unbelievable  pictures  which 
are  yet  so  intensely  human  and  so  true.  If  only  the  great 
financial  and  political  giants  would  for  once  accurately 
reveal  the  details  of  their  lives! 

Mollenhauer  looked  at  him  calmly,  meditatively.  How 
often  had  he  seen  weaklings  no  more  dishonest  than  him 
self,  but  without  his  courage  and  subtlety,  pleading  to 
him  in  this  fashion,  not  on  their  knees  exactly,  but  in 
tellectually  so!  Life  to  him,  as  to  every  other  man  of 
large  practical  knowledge  and  insight,  was  an  inexplic 
able  tangle.  What  were  you  going  to  do  about  the  so- 
called  morals  and  precepts  of  the  world?  This  man 
Stener  fancied  that  he  was  dishonest,  and  that  he,  Mollen 
hauer,  was  honest.  He  was  here,  self-convicted  of  sin, 
pleading  to  him,  Mollenhauer,  as  he  would  to  a  righteous, 
unstained  saint.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  Mollenhauer  knew 

386 


THE    FINANCIER 

that  he  was  simply  shrewder,  more  far-seeing,  more  cal 
culating,  not  less  dishonest.  Stener  was  lacking  in  force 
and  brains — not  morals.  This  lack  was  his  principal 
crime.  There  were  people  who  believed  in  some  esoteric 
standard  of  right — some  ideal  of  conduct  absolutely  and 
very  far  removed  from  practical  life;  but  he  had  never 
seen  them  practise  it  save  to  their  own  financial  (not 
moral — he  would  not  say  that)  destruction.  They  were 
never  significant,  practical  men  who  clung  to  these 
fatuous  ideals.  They  were  always  poor,  nondescript, 
negligible  dreamers.  He  could  not  have  ma<Je  Stener 
understand  all  this  if  he  had  wanted  to,  and  he  certainly 
did  not  want  to.  Stener,  like  thousands  and  millions  of 
others,  was  one  of  those  men  who  are  born  to  be  ruled 
by  men  like  himself,  for  instance.  The  shrewd,  calculat 
ing,  thinking  man — other  things  being  equal — nearly 
always  rules.  These  significant  thoughts  passed  vaguely 
through  Mollenhauer's  mind  as  he  saw  Stener  kneeling 
before  him;  but  in  spite  of  them  he  felt  a  little  sorry  for 
the  man,  just  a  little.  It  was  too  bad  about  Mrs.  Stener 
and  the  little  Steners.  No  doubt  she  had  worked  hard, 
as  had  Stener,  to  get  up  in  the  world  and  be  something — 
just  a  little  more  than  miserably  poor;  and  now  this 
unfortunate  complication  had  to  arise  to  undo  them — this 
Chicago  fire.  What  a  curious  thing  that  was!  If  any 
one  thing  more  than  another  made  him  doubt  the  exist 
ence  of  a  kindly,  overruling  Providence,  it  was  the  un 
heralded  storms  out  of  clear  skies  which  so  often  brought 
ruin  and  disaster  to  so  many. 

"Get  up,  Mr.  Stener,"  he  said,  calmly,  after  a  few  mo 
ments.  "You  mustn't  give  way  to  your  feelings  like 
this.  You  must  not  cry.  These  troubles  are  never  un 
raveled  by  tears.  You  must  do  a  little  thinking  for  your 
self.  Perhaps  your  situation  isn't  so  bad." 

As  he  was  saying  this  Stener  was  putting  himself  back 
in  his  chair,  getting  out  his  handkerchief,  and  sobbing 
hopelessly  in  it. 

337 


THE    FINANCIER 

"There,  Mr.  Stener,  there.  Ill  do  what  I  can.  I 
won't  promise  anything.  I  can't  tell  you  what  the  result 
will  be.  There  are  many  peculiar  political  forces  in  this 
city.  I  may  not  be  able  to  save  you,  but  I  am  perfectly 
willing  to  try.  You  must  put  yourself  absolutely  under 
my  direction.  You  must  not  say  or  do  anything  without 
first  consulting  with  me.  I  will  send  my  secretary,  Mr. 
Sengstack,  to  you  from  time  to  time.  He  will  tell  you 
what  to  do.  You  must  not  come  to  me  unless  I  send  for 
you.  Do  you  understand  that  thoroughly?" 

"Yes,  Mr.  Mollenhauer." 

"Well,  now,  dry  your  eyes.  I  don't  want  you  to  go  out 
of  this  office  crying.  Go  back  to  your  office  and  I  will 
send  Mr.  Sengstack  to  see  you.  He  will  tell  you  what  to 
do.  Follow  him  exactly.  And  whenever  I  send  for  you 
come  at  once." 

He  got  up,  large,  self-confident,  reserved.  Stener, 
buoyed  by  the  subtle  reassurance  of  his  remarks,  re 
covered  to  a  degree  his  equanimity.  Mr.  Mollenhauer, 
the  great,  powerful  Mr.  Mollenhauer,  was  going  to  help 
him  out  of  his  scrape.  He  might  not  have  to  go  to  jail 
after  all.  He  left  after  a  few  moments,  his  face  a  little 
red  from  weeping,  but  otherwise  recovered  from  telltale 
marks,  and  returned  to  his  office. 

In  three-quarters  of  an  hour  Mr.  Sengstack  called  for 
the  second  time  this  day — Mr.  Abner  Sengstack,  small, 
dark-faced,  club-footed,  a  great  sole  of  leather  three 
inches  thick  under  his  short,  withered  right  leg,  his  slightly 
Slavic,  highly  intelligent  countenance  burning  with  a 
pair  of  keen,  piercing,  inscrutable  black  eyes.  Mr. 
Sengstack  was  a  fit  secretary  for  Mr.  Mollenhauer.  You 
could  see  at  one  glance  that  he  would  make  Mr.  Stener 
do  exactly  what  Mr.  Mollenhauer  suggested.  His  busi 
ness  was  to  induce  Mr.  Stener  to  part  with  his  street- 
railway  holdings  at  once  through  Tighe  &  Co.,  Butler's 
brokers,  to  the  political  subagent  who  would  eventually 
transfer  them  to  Mollenhauer.  What  little  Stener  received 

388 


THE    FINANCIER 

for  them  might  well  go  into  the  treasury.  Tighe  &  Co. 
would  manage  the  " 'change"  subtleties  of  this  without 
giving  any  one  else  a  chance  to  bid,  while  at  the  same 
time  making  it  appear  an  open-market  transaction.  At 
the  same  time  Sengstack  went  carefully  into  the  state  of 
the  treasurer's  office  for  his  master's  benefit — finding  out 
what  it  was  that  Strobik,  Wy croft,  and  Harmon  had  been 
doing  with  their  loans.  Via  another  source  they  were 
ordered  to  disgorge  at  once  or  face  prosecution.  They 
were  a  part  of  Mr.  Mollenhauer's  political  machine. 
Then,  having  cautioned  Mr.  Stener  not  to  set  over  the 
remainder  of  his  property  to  any  one,  and  not  to  listen  to 
any  one,  most  of  all  to  the  Machiavellian  counsel  of  Mr. 
Cowperwood,  Mr.  Sengstack  left.  Needless  to  say,  Mr. 
Mollenhauer  was  greatly  gratified  by  this  turn  of  affairs. 
Cowperwood  was  now  most  likely  in  a  position  where  he 
would  have  to  come  and  see  him,  or  if  not,  a  good  share 
of  the  properties  he  controlled,  Mr.  Stener's  end  of  them, 
were  already  in  his,  Mollenhauer's,  possession.  If  by 
some  hook  or  crook  he  could  secure  the  remainder,  Mr. 
Simpson  and  Mr.  Butler  might  well  talk  to  him  about 
this  street-railway  business.  His  holdings  were  now  as 
large  as  any,  if  not  quite  the  largest. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

IT  was  in  the  face  of  this  very  altered  situation  that 
1  Cowperwood  arrived  late  this  Monday  afternoon — it 
was  almost  five  o'clock — to  see  Mr.  Stener. 

Stener  was  quite  alone,  worried  and  distraught.  He 
was  anxious  to  see  Cowperwood,  and  at  the  same  time 
afraid  to  meet  him.  His  running  to  Mollenhauer  this 
afternoon,  at  Strobik's  suggestion,  and  telling  him  of 
Cowperwood's  request,  was  in  its  way  a  form  of  treach 
ery.  He  should  not  have  done  it,  seeing  that  he  had 
hitherto  so  thoroughly  shared  in  all  the  schemes  and 
profits  of  Cowperwood;  but  he  had  not  dared  do  other 
wise.  The  man  was  frightened  and  senseless. 

"George,"  said  Frank,  briskly,  on  seeing  him,  "I 
haven't  much  time  to  spare  now,  but  I've  come,  finally, 
to  tell  you  that  you'll  have  to  let  me  have  three  hun 
dred  thousand  more  if  you  don't  want  me  to  fail.  Things 
are  looking  very  bad  to-day.  They've  caught  me  in  a 
corner  on  my  loans;  but  this  storm  isn't  going  to  last. 
You  can  see  by  the  very  character  of  it  that  it  can't." 
He  was  looking  at  Stener's  face,  and  seeing  fear  and  a 
painful  necessity  for  opposition  written  there.  "Chicago 
is  burning,  but  it  will  be  built  up  again.  Business  will 
be  all  the  better  for  it  later  on.  Now,  I  want  you  to 
be  reasonable  and  help  me.  Don't  get  frightened." 
Stener  stirred  uneasily.  "Don't  let  these  politicians  scare 
you.  It  will  all  blow  over  in  a  few  days,  and  then  we'll 
be  better  off  than  ever.  Did  you  see  Mollenhauer?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  what  did  he  have  to  say?" 

"He  said  just  what  I  thought  he'd  say.  He  won't  let 

390 


THE    FINANCIER 

me  do  this.  I  can't,  Frank,  I  tell  you!"  exclaimed  Stener, 
jumping  up.  He  was  so  nervous  that  he  had  had  a  hard 
time  keeping  his  seat  during  this  short,  direct  conversation. 
Cowperwood's  searching  glance  was  troubling  him  as 
might  a  hundred  needle-points  pricking  his  spine.  "I 
can't!  They've  got  me  in  a  corner!  They're  after  me! 
They  all  know  what  we've  been  doing.  Oh,  say,  Frank" 
— he  threw  up  his  arms  wildly — "you've  got  to  get  me 
out  of  this.  You've  got  to  let  me  have  that  five  hundred 
thousand  back  and  get  me  out  of  this.  If  you  don't, 
and  you  should  fail,  they'll  send  me  to  the  penitentiary. 
I've  got  a  wife  and  four  children,  Frank.  I  can't  go  on 
in  this.  It's  too  big  for  me.  I  never  should  have  gone 
in  on  it  in  the  first  place.  I  never  would  have  if  you 
hadn't  persuaded  me,  in  a  way.  I  never  thought  when 
I  began  that  I  would  ever  get  in  as  bad  as  all  this.  I 
can't  go  on,  Frank.  I  can't!  I'm  willing  you  should 
have  all  my  stock.  Only  give  me  back  that  five  hundred 
thousand,  and  we'll  call  it  even."  His  voice  rose  ner 
vously  as  he  talked,  and  he  wiped  his  wet  forehead  with 
his  hand  and  stared  at  Cowperwood  pleadingly,  foolishly. 
Cowperwood  stared  at  him  in  return  for  a  few  mo 
ments  with  a  cold,  fishy  eye.  He  knew  a  great  deal 
about  human  nature,  and  he  was  ready  for  and  expect 
ant  of  any  queer  shift  in  an  individual's  attitude,  particu 
larly  in  time  of  panic ;  but  this  shift  of  Stener's  was  quite 
too  much.  If  it  had  not  been  for  his  own  dire  predica 
ment  he  would  not  have  thought  anything  of  it,  would  have 
walked  out  and  let  the  man  go;  but  now,  in  extremis,  to 
hear  him  emitting  a  sinking  wail  like  this,  when  he  ex 
pected  at  least  understanding  and  appreciation  of  his 
own  situation,  was  too  much.  It  did  not  vitally  disturb 
his  own  clear  thinking  machinery,  however.  He  merely 
stared  at  Stener  for  a  few  minutes,  in  order  to  convey  to 
him  something  of  his  own  surprise  and  chagrin — to  hearten 
him  with  a  sense  of  the  contempt  he  had  for  any  such 
weakness  if  long  persisted  in — and  then  he  asked:  <(  Who 


THE    FINANCIER 

else  have  you  been  talking  to,  George,  since  I  saw  you? 
Who  have  you  seen?  What  did  Sengstack  have  to 
say?" 

"He  says  just  what  Mollenhauer  does,  that  I  mustn't 
loan  any  more  money  under  any  circumstances,  and  he 
says  I  ought  to  get  that  five  hundred  thousand  back  as 
quickly  as  possible." 

"And  you  think  Mollenhauer  wants  to  help  you,  do 
you?"  inquired  Cowperwood,  finding  it  hard  to  efface  the 
contempt  which  kept  forcing  itself  into  his  voice.  Still, 
he  said  to  himself,  if  you  wish  to  manipulate  fools  you  must 
bear  with  their  follies — their  idiosyncrasies.  He  had  to 
placate  this  man. 

"I  think  he  does,  yes.  I  don't  know  who  else  will, 
Frank,  if  he  don't.  He's  one  of  the  big  political  forces 
in  this  town." 

"Listen  to  me,"  began  Cowperwood,  eying  him  fixedly. 
Then  he  paused.  "What  did  he  say  you  should  do  about 
your  holdings?" 

"Sell  them  through  Tighe  and  Company  and  put  the 
money  back  in  the  treasury,  if  you  won't  take  them." 

"Sell  them  to  whom?"  asked  Cowperwood,  thinking  of 
Stener's  last  words. 

"To  any  one  on  'change  who'll  take  them,  I  suppose. 
I  don't  know." 

"I  thought  so,"  said  Cowperwood,  comprehendingly. 
"I  might  have  known  as  much.  They're  working  you, 
George.  They're  simply  trying  to  get  your  stocks  away 
from  you.  You  must  know  it  if  you  know  anything  at  all. 
Mollenhauer  is  leading  you  on.  Tighe  and  Company  are 
his  agents.  He  knows  I  can't  do  what  you  want — give 
you  back  the  five  hundred  thousand  dollars.  He  wants 
you  to  throw  your  stocks  on  the  market  so  that  he  can 
pick  them  up.  Depend  on  it,  that's  all  arranged  for 
already.  When  you  do,  he's  got  me  in  his  clutches,  or 
he  thinks  he  has — he  and  Butler  and  Simpson.  They 
want  to  get  together  on  this  local  street-railway  situation, 

392 


THE    FINANCIER 

and  I  know  it,  I  feel  it.  I've  felt  it  coming  all  along. 
They  want  to  shake  us  out — shake  me  out — and  they 
are  using  you  right  now  to  hit  me.  Mollenhauer  hasn't 
any  more  intention  of  helping  you  than  he  has  of 
flying.  Once  you've  sold  your  stocks  he's  through  with 
you — mark  my  word.  Do  you  think  he'll  turn  a  hand 
to  keep  you  out  of  the  penitentiary  once  you're  out  of 
this  street-railway  situation?  He  will  not.  And  if  you 
think  so,  you're  a  bigger  fool  than  I  take  you  to  be,  George. 
Don't  go  crazy.  Don't  lose  your  head.  You've  gone 
wild  overnight.  Somebody's  frightened  the  life  out  of 
you.  Be  sensible.  Look  the  situation  in  the  face. 
Let  me  explain  it  to  you.  You  can  see  for  yourself  just 
how  things  are,  if  you  will  only  stop  for  a  moment  and 
try  to  see  what  it  is  you  are  going  to  do.  If  you  don't 
help  me  now — if  you  don't  let  me  have  three  hundred 
thousand  dollars  by  to-morrow  noon,  at  the  very  latest, 
I'm  through,  and  so  are  you.  There  is  not  a  thing  the 
matter  with  our  situation.  Those  stocks  of  ours  are  as 
good  to-day  as  they  ever  were.  Why,  great  heavens, 
man,  the  railways  are  there  behind  them.  They're  pay 
ing.  The  Seventeenth  and  Nineteenth  Street  line  is  earn 
ing  one  thousand  dollars  a  day  right  now.  What  better 
evidence  do  you  want  than  that?  Green  and  Coates  is 
earning  five  hundred  dollars.  You're  frightened,  George. 
These  damned  political  schemers  have  scared  you.  Why, 
you've  as  good  a  right  to  loan  that  money  as  Bode  and 
Murtagh  had  before  you.  They  did  it.  You've  been 
doing  it  for  Mollenhauer  and  the  others,  only  so  long  as 
you  do  it  for' them  it's  all  right.  What's  a  designated  city 
depository  but  a  loan?"  Cowperwood  was  referring  to 
the  system  under  which  certain  portions  of  city  money, 
like  the  sinking-fund,  were  permitted  to  be  kept  in  certain 
banks  at  a  low  rate  of  interest  or  no  rate — banks  in  which 
Mollenhauer  and  Butler  and  Simpson  were  interested.  This 
was  their  safe  graft.  "Don't  throw  your  chances  away, 
George.  Don't  quit  now.  You're  a  rich  man  if  you 

393 


THE    FINANCIER 

don't.  You'll  be  worth  millions  in  a  few  years,  and  you 
won't  have  to  turn  a  hand.  All  you  will  have  to  do  will 
be  to  keep  what  you  have.  If  you  don't  help  me,  mark 
my  word,  they'll  throw  you  over  the  moment  I'm  out 
of  this,  and  they'll  let  you  go  to  the  penitentiary.  There's 
not  a  single  one  of  these  fellows  will  turn  a  hand  the  mo 
ment  I'm  through.  Who's  going  to  put  up  five  hundred 
thousand  dollars  for  you,  George?  Where  is  Mollen- 
hauer  going  to  get  it,  or  Butler,  or  anybody,  in  these 
times?  They  can't.  They  don't  intend  to.  When  I'm 
through,  you're  through,  and  you'll  be  exposed  quicker 
than  any  one  else.  They  can't  hurt  me,  George.  I'm 
an  agent.  I  didn't  ask  you  to  come  to  me.  You  came 
to  me  in  the  first  place  of  your  own  accord.  If  you 
don't  help  me,  you're  through,  I  tell  you,  and  you're  going 
to  be  sent  to  the  penitentiary  as  sure  as  there  are  jails. 
Why  don't  you  take  a  stand,  George?  Why  don't  you 
hold  your  ground?  You  have  your  wife  and  children  to 
look  after.  You  can't  be  any  worse  off  loaning  me  three 
hundred  thousand  more  than  you  are  right  now.  What 
difference  does  it  make — five  hundred  thousand  or  eight 
hundred  thousand?  It's  all  one  and  the  same  thing,  if 
you're  going  to  be  tried  for  it.  You  might  as  well  be 
tried  for  a  sheep  as  a  lamb.  Besides,  if  you  loan  me  this, 
there  isn't  going  to  be  any  trial.  I'm  not  going  to  fail. 
This  storm  will  blow  over  in  a  week  or  ten  days,  and  we'll 
be  rich  again.  For  Heaven's  sake,  George,  don't  go  to 
pieces  this  way!  Be  sensible!  Be  reasonable!" 

He  paused,  for  Stener's  face  had  become  a  jelly-like 
mass  of  woe.  The  man  was  beside  himself  with  these 
thoughts  of  his  own  folly  and  of  the  penitentiary  possibly 
yawning  for  him,  of  Mollenhauer's  using  him  as  a  tool 
and  playing  him  false,  of  Cowperwood's  doing,  as  Mollen- 
hauer  and  his  secretary,  Sengstack,  had  suggested,  the 
same  thing.  He  had  no  courage  for  great  occasions,  no 
vitality,  no  physical  stamina.  This  idea  of  a  large  burden 
of  responsibility  being  suddenly  thrust  upon  him  was  too 

394 


THE    FINANCIER 

much  for  him.  His  physical  and  intellectual  knees 
knocked  together. 

"I  can't,  Frank,"  he  wailed.  "I  tell  you  I  can't. 
They'll  punish  me  worse  than  ever  if  I  do  that.  They'll 
never  let  up  on  me.  You  don't  know  these  people." 

The  political  underling,  the  tool,  the  man  trained  to 
obey,  spoke  here.  So  long  had  he  helped  to  carry  the 
trains  of  the  strutting  political  potentates  that  their 
slightest  nod  was  as  an  unbreakable  command  to  him. 
In  his  very  crumpling,  jelly-like  weakness  Cowperwood 
read  his  own  fate.  What  could  you  do  with  a  man  like 
that?  How  brace  him  up?  You  couldn't!  And  with 
a  gesture  of  infinite  understanding,  disgust,  noble  in 
difference,  he  threw  up  his  hands  and  started  to  walk 
out.  At  the  door  he  turned. 

" George,"  he  said,  "I'm  sorry.  I'm  sorry  for  you, 
not  me.  I'll  come  out  of  things  all  right,  eventually.  I'll 
be  rich.  But,  George,  you're  making  the  one  great  mis 
take  of  your  life.  You'll  be  poor;  you'll  be  a  convict,  and 
the  blame  will  be  all  to  yourself.  There  isn't  a  thing  the 
matter  with  this  money  situation  except  the  fire.  There 
isn't  a  thing  wrong  with  my  affairs  except  this  slump  in 
stocks — this  panic.  You  sit  there,  a  fortune  in  your  hands, 
and  you  allow  a  lot  of  schemers,  highbinders,  who  don't 
know  any  more  of  your  affairs  or  mine  than  a  rabbit, 
who  have  no  power  over  you  except  your  own  fear,  and 
no  interest  in  you  except  to  plan  what  they  can  get  out 
of  you,  to  frighten  you  and  prevent  you  from  doing  the 
one  thing  that  will  save  your  life.  Three  hundred  thou 
sand  paltry  dollars  that  in  three  or  four  weeks  from 
now  I  can  pay  back  to  you  four  and  five  times  over,  and 
for  that  you  will  see  me  go  broke  and  yourself  to  the 
penitentiary.  I  can't  understand  it,  George.  It  isn't 
reason.  It's  obsession.  You're  out  of  your  mind.  You're 
going  to  rue  this  the  longest  day  that  you  live,  and  if 
you  ever  meet  me  you'll  tell  me  so." 

Cowperwood  waited  a  few  moments  to  see  if  this,  by 
395 


THE    FINANCIER 

any  twist  of  chance,  would  have  any  effect;  then,  noting 
that  Stener  still  remained  a  wilted,  helpless  mass  of  noth 
ing,  he  shook  his  head  gloomily  and  walked  out.  It  was 
the  first  time  in  his  life  that  Cowperwood  had  ever  shown 
the  least  sign  of  weakening  or  despair.  He  had  felt  all 
along  as  though  there  were  nothing  to  the  Greek  theory 
of  being  pursued  by  the  furies.  Now,  however,  there 
seemed  an  untoward  fate  which  was  pursuing  him.  It 
looked  that  way.  Still,  fate  or  no  fate,  he  was  put  on  this 
earth  to  achieve  somewhat,  and  he  did  not  propose  to 
be  daunted.  Even  in  this  very  beginning  of  a  tendency 
to  feel  despondent  he  threw  back  his  head,  protruded  his 
chest,  and  walked  as  briskly  as  ever. 

In  the  large  room  outside  Mr.  Stener's  private  office 
he  encountered  Albert  Stires,  Stener's  chief  clerk  and 
secretary.  He  and  Albert  had  exchanged  many  friendly 
greetings  in  times  past,  and  all  the  little  minor  trans 
actions  in  regard  to  city  loan,  the  entering  of  transfers 
on  given  dates,  the  mailing  or  sending  of  checks,  etc.,  had 
been  discussed  between  them,  for  Albert  knew  more  of  the 
intricacies  of  finance  and  financial  bookkeeping  than 
Stener  would  ever  know. 

At  the  sight  of  Stires  the  thought  in  regard  to  the  sixty 
thousand  dollars'  worth  of  city  loan  certificates  previously 
referred  to  flashed  suddenly  through  Cowperwood's  mind. 
He  had  not  deposited  them  in  the  sinking-fund,  and  did 
not  intend  to  for  the  present — could  not,  unless  con 
siderable  free  money  were  to  reach  him  shortly — for  he 
had  used  them  to  satisfy  other  pressing  demands,  and 
had  no  free  money  to  buy  them  back — or,  in  other  words, 
release  them.  And  he  did  not  want  to  just  at  this  mo 
ment.  Under  the  law  governing  transactions  of  this  kind 
with  the  city  treasurer,  he  was  supposed  to  deposit  them 
at  once  to  the  credit  of  the  city,  and  not  to  draw  his  pay 
therefor  from  the  city  treasurer  until  he  had.  To  be  very 
exact,  the  city  treasurer,  under  the  law,  was  not  supposed 

396 


THE    FINANCIER 

to  pay  him  for  any  transaction  of  this  kind  until  he  or 
his  agents  presented  a  voucher  from  the  bank  or  other 
organization  carrying  the  sinking-fund  for  the  city 
showing  that  the  certificates  so  purchased  had  actually 
been  deposited  there.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  under  the  cus 
tom  which  had  grown  up  between  him  and  Stener,  the 
law  had  long  been  ignored  in  this  respect.  He  could 
buy  certificates  of  city  loan  for  the  sinking-fund  up  to 
any  reasonable  amount,  hypothecate  them  where  he 
pleased,  and  draw  his  pay  from  the  city  without  present 
ing  a  voucher.  At  the  end  of  the  month  sufficient  certif 
icates  of  city  loan  could  usually  be  gathered  from  one 
source  and  another  to  make  up  the  deficiency,  or  the 
deficiency  could  actually  be  ignored,  as  had  been  done 
on  more  than  one  occasion,  for  long  periods  of  time,  while 
he  used  money  secured  by  hypothecating  the  shares  for 
speculative  purposes.  This  was  morally  wrong  and  act 
ually  illegal;  but  neither  Cowperwood  nor  Stener  saw 
it  in  that  light  or  cared.  It  might  be  wrong,  but  it  was 
profitable;  and,  anyhow,  there  was  no  immediate  danger 
of  exposure.  Stener  was  affable  and  willing;  the  city 
treasury  was  usually  more  than  plentifully  supplied  with 
cash.  What  would  you? 

The  trouble  with  this  particular  transaction  was  the 
note  that  he  had  received  from  Stener  ordering  him  to 
stop  both  buying  and  selling,  which  put  Cowperwood's 
relations  with  the  city  treasury  on  a  very  formal  basis.  He 
had  bought  these  certificates  before  receiving  this  note, 
but  had  not  deposited  them.  He  was  going  now  to 
collect  his  check;  but  since  Stener  was  evidently  "at 
outs"  with  him,  and  might  sever  relations  entirely,  or 
be  compelled  to,  the  old,  easy  system  of  balancing 
matters  at  the  end  of  the  month  might  not  be  said  to 
obtain  any  longer.  Anyhow,  Stires  might  ask  him  to 
present  a  voucher  of  deposit.  If  so,  he  could  not  now  get 
this  check  for  sixty  thousand  dollars,  for  he  did  not  have 
the  certificates  to  deposit.  If  not,  he  might  get  the 

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money;  but,  also,  it  might  constitute  the  basis  of  some 
subsequent  legal  action.  If  he  did  not  eventually  deposit 
the  certificates  before  failure,  some  charge  such  as  that 
of  larceny  might  be  brought  against  him.  Still,  he  said 
to  himself,  he  might  not  really  fail  even  yet.  If  any 
of  his  banking  associates  should,  for  any  reason,  modify 
their  decision  in  regard  to  calling  his  loans,  he  would 
not.  But,  barring  this,  he  would  fail;  and  then  Stener 
could  say,  when  it  was  discovered  that  these  certificates 
were  not  in  the  sinking-fund,  that  he,  Cowperwood,  had 
said  they  were,  or  obtained  the  check  under  false  pre 
tense.  That  was  larceny.  Beyond  question  it  was  grand 
larceny,  and  yet  he  could  plead  custom,  lack  of  time  to 
adjust  his  financial  affairs,  intention  to  deposit,  and  the 
like.  Would  Stener  make  a  row  about  this  if  he  so  secured 
this  check  ?  Would  the  city  officials  pay  any  attention 
to  him  if  he  did?  Could  you  get  any  district  attorney 
to  take  cognizance  of  such  a  transaction,  if  Stener  did 
complain?  No,  not  in  all  likelihood;  and,  anyhow,  noth 
ing  would  come  of  it.  No  jury  would  punish  him  in  the 
face  of  the  understanding  existing  between  him  and 
Stener  as  agent  or  broker  and  principal.  And,  anyhow, 
once  he  had  the  money,  it  was  a  hundred  to  one  Stener 
would  think  no  more  about  it.  It  would  go  in  among 
the  various  unsatisfied  liabilities,  and  nothing  more 
would  be  thought  about  it.  It  did  not  occur  to  him 
at  this  moment  that  his  relations  with  Edward  Malia 
Butler  and  his  daughter  might  possibly  create  a  special 
situation  in  which  any  flaw  in  his  legal  status  would  be 
eagerly  utilized  to  cause  him  trouble.  Like  lightning  the 
entire  situation  flashed  through  his  mind.  He  would  risk 
it.  He  stopped  before  the  chief  clerk's  desk. 

"Albert,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice,  "I  bought  sixty 
thousand  dollars'  worth  of  city  loan  for  the  sinking-fund 
this  morning.  Will  you  give  my  boy  a  check  for  it  in 
the  morning,  or,  better  yet,  will  you  give  it  to  me  now? 
I  got  your  note  about  no  more  purchases.  I'm  going 

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back  to  the  office.  You  can  just  credit  the  sinking-fund 
with  eight  hundred  certificates  at  from  seventy-five  to 
eighty.  I'll  send  you  the  itemized  list  later." 

"Certainly,  Mr.  Cowperwood,  certainly,"  replied  Al 
bert,  with  alacrity.  "Stocks  are  getting  an  awful  knock, 
aren't  they?  I  hope  you're  not  very  much  troubled  by 
it?" 

"Not  very,  Albert,"  replied  Cowperwood,  smiling,  the 
while  the  chief  clerk  was  making  out  his  check.  He  was 
wondering  if  by  any  chance  Stener  would  appear  and 
attempt  to  interfere  with  this.  It  was  a  legal  transaction. 
He  had  right  to  the  check  provided  he  deposited  the  cer 
tificates,  as  was  -his  custom,  with  the  trustee  of  the  fund. 
Still,  in  his  nervous  frenzy  Stener  might  object  and  take 
counsel  with  Mollenhauer.  Then,  no  doubt,  he,  Cowper 
wood,  would  have  to  bring  the  certificates  to  the  treasurer's 
office,  or  a  receipt  from  the  trustee  of  the  sinking-fund, 
the  Drovers'  and  Traders'  Bank,  before  he  could  get  his 
check.  Since  he  himself  had  used  the  certificates  to  fill 
a  crying  need  for  additional  securities,  he  could  not  do 
this.  It  would  be  fatal  to  his  plan.  If  he  could  not  get 
the  check,  he  could  not  pay  the  Girard  National  Bank 
its  call-loan;  and  if  he  did  not  pay  this  call-loan  promptly, 
he  lost  the  friendship  of  W.  C.  Davison,  his  present  good 
ally.  He  waited  tensely  while  Albert  wrote,  and  as  he 
tore  the  check  from  the  stub-book  and  handed  it  to  Cow 
perwood  the  latter  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief.  Here,  at 
least,  was  sixty  thousand  dollars,  and  to-night's  work 
would  enable  him  to  cash  the  seventy-five  thousand  that 
had  been  promised  him.  To-morrow,  once  more  he  must 
see  Leigh,  Kitchen,  Jay  Cooke  &  Co.,  Edward  Clark  & 
Co. — all  the  long  list  of  people  to  whom  he  owed  loans— 
and  see  what  could  be  done.  If  he  could  only  get  time! 
If  he  could  get  just  a  week! 


CHAPTER   XXXV 

TIME  was  not  a  thing  to  be  had  in  this  emergency. 
With  the  seventy-five  thousand  dollars  his  friends 
had  extended  to  him,  and  sixty  thousand  dollars  secured 
from  Stires,  Cowperwood  met,  the  next  morning,  the 
Girard  call,  and  placed  the  balance,  thirty-five  thousand 
dollars,  in  a  private  storage-box  in  his  own  home.  He 
visited  all  the  bankers  and  financiers  again.  It  was  not 
within  reason  that  they  should  assist  him  under  the 
circumstances,  and  by  twelve  o'clock  he  had  exhausted 
his  resources.  There  was  nothing  for  it  but  that  he  must 
default  on  his  payments.  He  saw  clearly  in  this  hour 
all  the  work  of  years  disappearing.  They  would  sell  out 
his  holdings  against  a  depressed  market,  unless,  by  a 
credit  conference  and  legal  proceedings  started  solely 
to  delay  matters,  he  could  prevent  it;  and  then,  even 
then,  he  would  be  "done"  out  of  most  of  the  holdings 
he  had  worked  so  industriously  to  acquire.  He  did  not 
commiserate  himself  in  this  hour.  He  looked  out  of  his 
office  window  into  the  little  court  upon  the  grass  and  the 
red-brick  wall,  and  sighed.-  What  more  could  he  do?  He 
sent  a  note  to  his  father,  asking  him  to  call  for  lunch. 
He  sent  a  note  to  his  own  lawyer,  Harper  Steger,  a  man 
of  his  own  age,  whom  he  liked  very  much,  and  asked  him 
to  call  also.  He  evolved  in  his  own  mind  various  plans 
of  delay,  addresses  to  creditors,  and  the  like;  but,  alas! 
he  was  going  to  fail.  And  the  worst  of  it  was  that  this 
matter  of  the  city  treasurer's  loans  was  bound  to  be 
come  a  public,  and  more  than  a  public,  a  political  scandal. 
The  matter  of  the  sixty  thousand  dollars'  worth  of  city 
loan  certificates,  unless  he  could  pay  his  father's  bank, 

400 


THE    FINANCIER 

where  he  had  hypothecated  them,  and  deposit  them  in 
the  Drovers'  and  Traders'  for  the  sinking-fund,  where  they 
belonged,  might  be  contorted  into  a  charge  of  larceny 
as  bailee,  although  heretofore,  during  the  times  he  had 
dealt  with  the  city  treasurer,  he  had  drawn  his  cash 
promptly  from  the  treasury  and  taken  his  time  about 
depositing  the  certificates.  He  could  fail  with  them  in 
his  possession,  having  the  excellent  excuse  that  he  in 
tended  to  do  so  but  had  forgotten  it.  It  might  look 
better  so.  There  ought  to  be  plenty  of  assets  for  his 
creditors  to  quarrel  about.  Alas !  the  charge  of  conniving, 
if  not  illegally,  at  least  morally,  at  the  misuse  of  the  city's 
money  was  the  one  thing  that  would  hurt  him  most.  And 
how  industriously  his  rivals  would  advertise  this  fact! 
He  might  get  on  his  feet  again  if  he  failed;  but  it  would 
be  uphill  work.  And  his  father!  His  father  would  be 
pulled  down  with  him.  The  old  gentleman  could  not 
stand  this  collapse  financially  and  socially.  He  might 
weather  it  if  no  odium  attached  to  his  financial  relation 
ship  with  his  son;  but  if  this  were  discussed,  it  was  prob 
able  that  he  would  be  forced  out  of  the  presidency  of  his 
bank.  It  would  be  so  easy,  Cowperwood  saw,  to  make 
it  appear  that  his  father  was  identified  with  all  that  he 
did.  It  would  not  be  so  bad  if  it  were  not  for  the  city 
treasurer's  defalcation;  but  that — that  would  throw  a 
cloud  of  shame  over  the  whole  thing.  Stener !  The  fool ! 
The  ingrate !  The  coward !  To  risk  a  penitentiary  sen 
tence  rather  than  fight  his  way  to  success  and  victory! 
Such  was  the  stuff  of  which  some  men  were  made. 
With  these  thoughts  Cowperwood  sat  there  waiting,  for 
counsel  with  his  father  and  Steger  was  most  impor 
tant.  As  he  did  so  Aileen  Butler  was  announced  by  his 
office-boy,  and  at  the  same  time  Albert  Stires. 

"Show  in  Miss  Butler,"  he  said,  getting  up.-  "Tell 
Mr.  Stires  to  wait."  And  he  turned  to  look  into  the  little 
court,  where  the  grass  was  still  green  and  the  sky  blue 
overhead  between  the  red-brick  walls.  Aileen  came 

401 


THE    FINANCIER 

briskly,  vigorously  in,  her  beautiful  body  clothed  as 
decoratively  as  ever.  The  street  suit  that  she  wore 
was  of  a  light  golden-brown  broadcloth,  faceted  with 
small,  dark-red  buttons.  Her  head  was  decorated  with 
a  brownish -red  shako  of  a  type  she  had  learned 
was  becoming  to  her,  brimless  and  with  a  trailing 
plume,  and  on  which  Cowperwood  had  complimented 
her  more  than  once;  and  her  throat  was  graced  by  a 
three-strand  necklace  of  gold  beads.  Her  hands  were 
smoothly  gloved  as  usual,  and  her  little  feet  dainty  to 
behold.  There  was  a  look  of  girlish  distress  in  her 
eyes,  which,  however,  she  was  doing  her  best  to  conceal. 

"Honey,"  she  exclaimed,  on  seeing  him,  her  arms  ex 
tended — the  room  was  incased  in  solid  hardwood  panels, 
giving  no  opportunity  for  observation  from  without — 
''what  is  the  trouble?  I  wanted  so  much  to  ask  you  the 
other  night.  You're  not  going  to  fail,  are  you?  I  heard 
father  and  Owen  talking  about  you  last  night." 

"What  did  they  say?"  he  inquired,  putting  his  arm 
about  her  and  looking  quietly  into  her  nervous  eyes. 

"Oh,  you  know,  I  think  papa  is  very  angry  with  you. 
He  suspects.  Some  one  sent  him  an  anonymous  letter. 
He  tried  to  get  it  out  of  me  last  night,  but  he  didn't.  I 
denied  everything.  I  was  in  here  twice  this  morning  to 
see  you,  but  you  were  out.  I  was  so  afraid  that  he  might 
see  you  first,  and  that  you  might  say  something." 

"Me,  Aileen?" 

"Well,  no,  not  exactly.  I  didn't  think  that.  I  don't 
know  what  I  thought.  Oh,  honey,  I've  been  so  worried. 
You  know,  I  didn't  sleep  at  all.  I  thought  I  was  stronger 
than  that;  but  I  was  so  worried  about  you.  You  know, 
he  put  me  in  a  strong  light  by  his  desk,  where  he  could 
see  my  face,  and  then  he  showed  me  the  letter.  I  was  so 
astonished  for  a  moment  I  hardly  know  what  I  said  or 
how  I  looked." 

"What  did  you  say?" 

"Why,  I  said:  'What  a  shame!  It  isn't  so!'  But  I 
402 


THE    FINANCIER 

didn't  say  it  right  away.  My  heart  was  going  like  a  trip 
hammer.  I'm  afraid  he  must  have  been  able  to  tell 
something  from  my  face.  I  could  hardly  get  my  breath." 

"He's  a  shrewd  man,  your  father,"  he  commented. 
"  He  knows  something  about  life.  Now  you  see  how  diffi 
cult  these  situations  are.  It's  a  blessing  he  decided  to 
show  you  the  letter  instead  of  watching  the  house.  I 
suppose  he  felt  too  bad  to  do  that.  He  can't  prove  any 
thing  now.  But  he  knows.  You  can't  deceive  him." 

"How  do  you  know  he  knows?" 

"I  saw  him  yesterday." 

"  Did  he  talk  to  you  about  it  ?" 

"No;    I  saw  his  face.     He  simply  looked  at  me." 

"Honey!     I'm  so  sorry  for  him!" 

"I  know  you  are.  So  am  I.  But  it  can't  be  helped 
now.  We  should  have  thought  of  that  in  the  first 
place." 

"But  I  love  you  so.  Oh,  honey,  he  will  never  forgive 
me.  He  loves  me  so.  He  mustn't  know.  I  won't  admit 
anything.  But,  oh  dear!" 

She  put  her  hands  tightly  together  on  his  bosom,  and 
he  looked  consolingly  into  her  eyes.  This  was  a  grim 
occasion  for  him — a  sad  hour.  There  were  so  many  things 
converging  to  make  a  dramatic  denouement. 

"Never  mind,"  he  replied;  "it  can't  be  helped  now. 
Where  is  my  strong,  determined  Aileen?  I  thought  you 
were  going  to  be  so  brave?  Aren't  you  going  to  be?  I 
need  to  have  you  that  way  now." 

"Do  you?" 

"Yes." 

"Are  you  in  trouble?" 

"I  think  I  am  going  to  fail,  dear." 

"Oh  no!" 

"Yes,  honey.  I  think  I'm  at  the  end  of  my  rope.  I 
don't  see  any  way  out  just  at  present.  I've  sent  for  my 
father  and  my  lawyer.  You  mustn't  stay  here,  sweet. 
Your  father  may  come  in  here  at  any  time.  We  must 

403 


THE    FINANCIER 

meet  somewhere — tomorrow,  say — to-morrow  afternoon. 
You  remember  Indian  Rock,  out  on  the  Wissahickon?" 

"Yes." 

"Could  you  be  there  at  four?" 

"Yes." 

"Look  out  for  who's  following.  If  I'm  not  there  by 
four-thirty,  don't  wait.  You  know  why.  It  will  be  because 
I  think  some  one  is  watching.  There  won't  be,  though, 
if  we  work  it  right.  And  now  you  must  run,  sweet.  We 
can't  use  Nine- thirty-one  any  more.  I'll  have  to  rent 
another  place  somewhere  else." 

"Oh,  honey,  I'm  so  sorry." 

"Aren't  you  going  to  be  strong  and  brave?  You  see, 
I  need  you  to  be." 

He  was  almost,  for  the  first  time,  a  little  sad  in  his 
mood. 

"Yes,  honey,  yes,"  she  declared,  slipping  her  arms 
under  his  and  pulling  him  tight.  "Oh  yes!  You  can 
depend  on  me.  Oh,  sweet,  I  love  you  so!  I'm  so  sorry. 
Oh,  I  do  hope  you  don't  fail!  But  it  doesn't  make  any 
difference,  dear,  between  you  and  me,  whatever  happens, 
does  it?  We  will  love  each  other  just  the  same.  You 
will  love  me,  and  I  will  love  you.  Oh,  honey,  I'll  do  any 
thing  for  you!  I'll  do  anything  you  say.  You  can  trust 
me.  They  sha'n't  know  anything  from  me." 

She  looked  at  his  chill  face,  and  a  fearful  determina 
tion  to  fight  for  him  welled  up  in  her  heart.  Her  love  was 
unjust,  illegal,  outlawed;  but  it  was  love,  just  the  same, 
and  had  much  of  the  fiery  daring  of  the  outcast  from 
justice. 

"I  love  you!    I  love  you!    I  love  you!"  she  declared. 

He  unloosed  her  hands. 

"Run,  sweet.  To-morrow  at  four.  Don't  fail.  And 
don't  talk.  And  don't  admit  anything,whatever  you  do." 

"I  won't." 

"And  don't  worry  about  me.     I'll  be  all  right." 

And  then  Mr.  Albert  Stires  was  admitted. 

404 


THE    FINANCIER 

Cowperwood  barely  had  time  to  straighten  his  tie,  to 
assume  a  nonchalant  attitude  by  his  window,  when  in 
hurried  Mr.  Stener's  chief  clerk — pale,  disturbed,  obvious 
ly  out  of  key  with  himself. 

"Mr.  Cowperwood!  You  know  that  check  I  gave  you 
last  night?  Mr.  Stener  says  it's  illegal,  that  I  shouldn't 
have  given  it  to  you,  that  he  will  hold  me  responsible. 
He  says  I  can  be  arrested  for  compounding  a  felony,  and 
that  he  will  discharge  me  and  have  me  sent  to  prison  if  I 
don't  get  it  back.  Oh,  Mr.  Cowperwood,  I  am  only  a 
young  man!  I'm  just  really  starting  out  in  life.  I've 
got  my  wife  and  little  boy  to  look  after.  You  won't  let 
him  do  that  to  me?  You'll  give  me  that  check  back, 
won't  you?  I  can't  go  back  to  the  office  without  it. 
He  says  you're  going  to  fail,  and  that  you  knew  it,  and 
that  you  haven't  any  right  to  it." 

His  face  was  a  study  in  clerkly  distress.  He  was  one 
of  your  typical  clerical  assistants,  young,  methodical,  un 
schooled  in  the  larger  tricks  of  the  world,  fearsome  and 
careful  of  his  future.  This  matter  of  the  check,  these 
possible  charges,  were  as  life  and  death  to  him.  He  knew 
that  the  practical,  inconsiderate  machinery  of  politics 
would  only  make  short  work  of  him.  His  future!  His 
wife  and  child!  His  salary!  This  threat  of  jail  and  of 
forfeiting  his  sureties  had  frightened  the  soul  out  of  him. 

Cowperwood  looked  at  him  curiously.  He  was  sur 
prised  at  the  variety  and  character  of  these  emissaries  of 
disaster.  Surely,  when  troubles  chose  to  multiply  they 
had  great  skill  in  presenting  themselves  in  rapid  order. 
Stener  had  no  right  to  make  any  such  statement.  The 
transaction  was  not  illegal.  The  man  had  gone  wild. 
True,  he,  Cowperwood,  had  received  an  order  after  these 
securities  were  bought  not  to  buy  or  sell  any  more  city 
loan,  but  that  did  not  invalidate  previous  purchases. 
Stener  was  browbeating  and  frightening  this  poor  under 
ling,  a  better  man  than  himself,  in  order  to  get  back  this 
sixty-thousand-dollar  check.  What  a  petty  creature  he 

405 


THE    FINANCIER 

was!  How  true  it  was,  as  somebody  had  remarked,  that 
you  could  not  possibly  measure  the  petty  meannesses  to 
which  a  fool  could  stoop! 

4 'You  go  back  to  Mr.  Stener,  Mr.  Stires,  and  tell  him 
that  it  can't  be  done.  The  certificates  of  loan  were  pur 
chased  before  his  order  arrived,  and  the  records  of  the 
exchange  will  prove  it.  There  is  no  illegality  here.  I 
am  entitled  to  that  check  and  could  have  collected  it  in 
any  qualified  court  of  law.  The  man  has  gone  out  of  his 
head.  I  haven't  failed  yet.  You  are  not  in  any  danger 
of  any  legal  proceedings;  and  if  you  are,  I'll  help  defend 
you.  I  can't  give  you  the  check  back  because  I  haven't 
it  to  give;  and  if  I  did,  I  wouldn't.  That  would  be  allow 
ing  a  fool  to  make  a  fool  of  me.  I'm  sorry,  very,  but  I 
can't  do  anything  for  you." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Cowperwood!"  Tears  were  in  Mr.  Stires's 
eyes.  "He'll  discharge  me!  He'll  forfeit  my  sureties. 
I'll  be  turned  out  into  the  street.  I  have  only  a  little 
property  of  my  own — outside  of  my  salary!" 

He*  wrung  his  hands,  and  Cowperwood  shook  his  head 
sadly. 

"This  isn't  as  bad  as  you  think,  Albert.  He  won't  do 
what  he  says.  He  can't.  It's  unfair  and  illegal.  You 
can  bring  suit  and  recover  your  salary.  I'll  help  you  in 
that  as  much  as  I'm  able.  But  I  can't  give  this  sixty- 
thousand-dollar  check,  because  I  haven't  it  to  give.  I 
couldn't  if  I  wanted  to.  It  isn't  here  any  more.  I've 
paid  for  the  securities  I  bought  with  it.  The  securities 
are  not  here.  They're  in  the  sinking-fund,  or  will  be." 

He  paused,  wishing  he  had  not  mentioned  that  fact. 
It  was  a  slip  of  the  tongue,  one  of  the  few  he  ever  made, 
due  to  the  peculiar  pressure  of  the  situation.  Stires 
pleaded  longer.  It  was  no  use,  Cowperwood  told  him. 
Finally  he  went  away,  crestfallen,  fearsome,  broken. 
There  were  tears  of  suffering  in  his  eyes.  Cowperwood 
was  very  sorry. 

And  then  his  father  was  announced. 

406 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

THE  elder  Cowperwood  brought  a  haggard  face.  He 
and  Frank  had  had  a  long  conversation  the  evening 
before,  lasting  until  early  this  Tuesday  morning;  but  it 
had  not  been  productive  of  much  save  uncertainty. 
Cowperwood,  the  father,  had  reported  that  his  enemies 
in  the  bank,  particularly  Adam  Davi,  the  vice-president, 
were  secretly  gratified  at  the  turn  affairs  had  taken,  and 
that  they  were  watching  his  manceuvers  closely.  If  by 
any  chance  Frank  failed  and  the  city  were  defrauded  of 
so  large  a  sum  as  five  hundred  thousand  dollars,  there 
would  surely  be  an  uproar.  The  unostentatious  conserva 
tive  public,  which  knows  so  little  of  what  is  going  on 
politically,  and  appears  as  a  rule  not  to  care,  though  it 
really  does,  being  merely  helpless,  would  begin  to  make 
inquiries.  Where  had  the  money  gone?  Who  got  it? 
What  part  did  Frank  Algernon  Cowperwood  play  in  this 
transaction?  How  much  did  Henry  Worthington  Cow 
perwood,  his  father,  get?  If  that  question  were  raised 
there  would  be  perturbation  in  his  own  bank.  Adam 
Davi  would  find  his  excuse  for  speaking.  The  secondary 
element  that  is  present  everywhere  and  is  always  seek 
ing  a  change,  hoping  to  profit  thereby,  would  find  in  this 
its  strong,  legitimate  excuse.  Henry  Worthington  Cow 
perwood  would  have  to  resign ;  and  after  that  where  would 
he  go?  Who  would  have  him?  What  bank?  Bank 
presidencies  are  not  lying  around  loose  for  the  asking. 
Men  with  flaws  in  their  record  are  not  necessary  to  their 
control.  The  pressure  to  achieve  these  distinguished 
positions  is  so  great  that  only  the  flawless — speaking  from 
a  public  point  of  view — are  eligible.  A  man  must  be  im- 

407 


THE    FINANCIER 

peccable,  his  honor  not  open  to  suspicion,  as  far  as  the 
general  public  is  concerned — certainly  not  open  to  provable 
dishonor.  Besides,  he  was  old — a  little  over  sixty  years. 
Cowperwood,  Jr.,  had  been  thinking  of  this  all  along. 
Cowperwood,  Sr.,  had'  been  worrying  about  it  almost 
fatally.  This  last  night  he  had  spent  in  his  garden  of 
Gethsemane.  "And  he  prayed  that  this  cup  might  pass 
from  him."  He  thought  of  his  wife,  a  little,  quiet,  help 
less  woman,  who  believed  in  him  so  thoroughly.  She  be 
lieved  in  Frank.  His  two  boys,  Edward  and  Joseph — they 
were  not  yet  placed  in  the  world,  except  as  assistants  to 
Frank.  Now  they  never  would  be.  Anna  Adelaide,  be 
cause  of  her  looks  and  temperament,  had  not  been  able 
to  make  a  worth-while  marriage.  Joseph  was  just  now 
thinking  of  getting  married,  and  this  would  affect  that. 
He,  the  father,  would  lose  his  house,  its  fine  furniture,  his 
connections,  his  friends;  Frank  and  he  would  be  practi 
cally  without  a  dollar  in  the  world.  He  thought  once  of 
impounding  some  money — concealing  some  securities;  but 
his  conscience  would  not  let  him.  His  conscience  was  part 
of  his  methodical  mental  machinery.  He  could  not  lie.  He 
had  never  been  able  to.  Frank  had  always  been  so  able, 
plain-spoken,  practical,  that  he  had  been  hypnotized  into 
believing  that  everything  he  did  was  right.  When  Frank 
had  explained  Stener's  desire  to  have  him  bring  city 
loan  to  par,  in  the  first  place,  it  was  nothing  but  a  nice, 
fortunate,  desirable,  delightful  bit  of  luck.  Since  then 
all  other  subtleties  had  followed  one  by  one,  as  a  spider 
spins  a  web,  and  they  were  apparently  so  harmless. 
"Other  city  treasurers."  How  that  phrase,  carrying  its 
palliative  and  yet  hopeless  thought,  jangled  in  his  brain! 
"Other  city  treasurers."  Yes,  by  their  wrong  conduct, 
their  wretched  precedent,  they  had  digged  the  pit  into 
which  his  son  Frank  had  now  fallen.  By  their  unrebuked 
custom  of  using  the  city's  funds  without  interest,  they 
had  set  and  baited  the  trap  by  which  Frank  was  now 
caught  fast.  And  then  this  Chicago  fire.  What  a 

408 


THE    FINANCIER 

strange,  catastrophic,  fatalistic  thing  it  was!  Chicago 
burns,  stocks  tumble,  Frank's  securities  are  depreciated, 
his  loans  called,  the  city  treasurer  cannot  get  his  money, 
and  exposure  follows !  It  was  unfair,  unkind  on  the  part 
of  fate;  and  yet  so  it  was.  Stener  would  go  to  the  peni 
tentiary,  surely;  but  how  about  Frank  and  himself? 
Frank!  His  talented  son!  His  millionaire  boy!  The 
man  whom  so  many  men  respected,  feared,  looked  up  to. 
Why,  these  last  few  years  he  had  heard  scarcely  anything 
save  wonderful  things  about  his  son  until  it  was  a  dis 
tinguished  thing  to  be  his  father.  His  strength — half  of 
it,  at  least — with  the  Third  National  was  due  to  the  suc 
cess  and  prominence  of  his  boy.  And  now — now! 

When  he  was  alone  he  rose  from  his  chair  in  his  room, 
or  from  his  desk  at  the  bank,  and  walked  the  floor.  He 
pressed  his  bony  hands  together.  He  laid  his  pale  hand 
over  his  mouth  and  stared  at  the  floor.  His  eyes,  rather 
deep-set  and  hollow  at  all  times,  were  now  sad  caverns 
filled  with  a  pale  woe.  He  could  not  eat;  he  could  not 
sleep.  He  could  only  think  and  calculate  and  hurry  here 
and  there  in  an  aimless  way.  He  was  losing  flesh,  and  he 
was  as  weak  as  though  he  were  ill.  Philadelphia,  the  eyes 
of  the  public,  the  minds  of  his  friends,  were  as  so  many 
burning,  blistering  rays  concentrated  by  a  sun-glass  and 
cast  upon  one  spot,  his  brain.  His  sense  of  pride  and 
position!  His  Frank!  His  personal  honor!  His  bank 
presidency!  His  sons  and  daughter!  His  wife!  And 
he  was  old  now. 

Let  no  one  underestimate  the  need  of  pity.  We  live 
in  a  stony  universe  whose  hard,  brilliant  forces  rage 
fiercely.  From  the  prowling  hunger  of  the  Hyrcan  tiger 
to  the  concentric  grip  of  Arcturus  and  Canopus  there  is 
this  same  ruthless,  sightless  disregard  of  the  individual 
and  the  minor  thing.  Life  moves  in  an  ordered  hierarchy 
of  forces  of  which  the  lesser  is  as  nothing  to  the  greater. 
Ho,  slave !  And  in  the  midst  of  the  rip  of  desperate  things 
— in  odd  crannies  and  chance  flaws  between  forces — there 

14  409 


THE    FINANCIER 

spring  and  bloom  these  small  flowers  of  sentiment.  Ten 
derness!  Mercy!  Affection!  Sorrow!  The  Hindus 
worship  an  image  of  pain.  And  well  they  may.  It  is 
a  classic  amid  the  painless,  the  indifferent — Nirvana. 
Blessed  are  the  merciful,  for  they  shall  receive  mercy! 
No,  no.  Blessed  are  the  merciful,  for  they  create  mercy. 
Of  such  is  the  kingdom  of  the  ideal. 

"Hello,  father,"  Cowperwood  exclaimed,  cheerfully, 
noting  the  former's  gloom  as  he  walked  in.  He  was 
satisfied  that  there  was  scarcely  a  coal  of  thought  to  be 
raked  out  of  these  ashes  of  despair;  but  there  was  no 
use  admitting  the  possibility  of  it.  Discussion  was  worth 
something,  seeing  that  everything  they  had  was  at  stake. 
There  was  this  final  transaction  in  regard  to  the  Girard 
National  Bank  and  the  sixty  thousand  dollars'  worth  of 
city  loan,  for  instance.  He  owed  the  sinking-fund  that 
much,  and  the  certificates  were  not  in  his  possession. 
They  could  be  traced.  How  would  he  explain  that? 
He  could  not  believe  that  his  luck  had  deserted  him — 
that  there  was  not  some  way  out. 

"Well,"  said  his  father,  lifting  his  sad  eyes  in  a  peculiar 
way.  He  had  a  habit  of  raising  his  eyelids  and  eye 
brows  in  a  simulated  expression  of  surprise,  which  was 
purely  mechanical — a  habit  acquired  through  years  and 
years  of  what  seemed  to  him  essential  commercial  prac 
tice,  as  some  people  look  up  over  and  along  their 
noses;  and  now,  in  this  hour  of  distress,  he  did  it  with  a 
peculiar  touch  of  vacuity  to  the  action.  It  was  mechan 
ical  and  pathetic.  Frank  was  so  used  to  him  he  scarcely 
noticed  it. 

"Well,  it  looks  like  stormy  weather,  doesn't  it?  I've 
decided  to  call  a  meeting  of  my  creditors,  father,  and  ask 
for  time.  There  isn't  anything  else  to  do.  I  can't  realize 
enough  on  anything  to  make  it  worth  while  talking  about. 
I  thought  Stener  might  change  his  mind,  but  he's  worse 
rather  than  better.  His  head  bookkeeper  just  went  out 
of  here." 

410 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

"What  did  he  want?"  asked  Henry  Cowperwood. 

"He  wanted  me  to  give  him  back  a  check  for  sixty 
thousand  that  he  paid  me  for  some  city  loan  I  bought 
yesterday  morning."  Frank  did  not  explain  to  his  father, 
however,  that  he  had  hypothecated  the  certificates  this 
check  had  paid  for,  and  used  the  check  itself  to  raise  money 
enough  to  pay  the  Girard  National  Bank  and  to  give 
himself  thirty-five  thousand  in  cash  besides. 

"Well,  I  declare!"  replied  the  old  man.  "You'd  think 
he'd  have  better  sense  than  that.  That's  a  perfectly 
legitimate  transaction.  When  did  you  say  he  notified 
you  not  to  buy  city  loan?" 

' '  Yesterday  noon. ' ' 

"He's  out  of  his  mind,"  Cowperwood,  Sr.,  commented, 
laconically. 

"It's  Mollenhauer  and  Simpson  and  Butler,  I  know. 
They  want  my  street-railway  lines.  Well,  they  won't 
get  them.  They'll  get  them  through  a  receivership,  and 
after  the  panic's  all  over.  Our  creditors  will  have  first 
chance  at  these.  If  they  buy,  they'll  buy  from  them. 
If  it  weren't  for  that  five-hundred-thousand-dollar  loan 
I  wouldn't  think  a  thing  of  this.  My  creditors  would 
sustain  me  nicely.  But  the  moment  that  gets  noised 
around!  .  .  .  and  this  election!" 

He  foresaw  what  the  creditors  would  think.  He  fore 
saw  what  his  father's  directors  would  think — for  the  time 
being,  anyhow.  Nothing  is  so  senseless,  so  pointless,  so 
indiscriminate  as  popular  clamor.  While  that  was  on 
anything  foolish  and  evil  might  be  done.  And  this  sixty 
thousand?  What  would  Stener — or,  rather,  his  advisers, 
now — do  about  that? 

"I  hypothecated  those  city  loan  certificates  because 
I  didn't  want  to  get  on  the  wrong  side  of  Davison.  I 
expected  to  take  in  enough  by  now  to  take  them  up. 
They  ought  to  be  in  the  sinking-fund,  really,"  Cowper 
wood  finally  added. 

The  old  gentleman  saw  the  point  at  once,  and  winced, 
411 


THE    FINANCIER 

"They  might  cause  you  trouble  there,  Frank." 

"It's  a  technical  question,"  replied  his  son.  "I  might 
have  been  intending  to  take  them  up.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  I  will  if  I  can  before  three.  I've  been  taking  eight 
and  ten  days  to  deposit  them  in  the  past.  In  a  storm  like 
this  I'm  entitled  to  move  my  pawns  as  best  I  can." 

Cowperwood,  the  father,  put  his  hand  over  his  mouth 
again.  He  felt  very  disturbed  about  this.  He  saw  no 
way  out,  however.  He  was  at  the  end  of  his  own  re 
sources.  He  felt  the  side-whiskers  on  his  left  cheek.  He 
looked  out  of  the  window  into  the  little  green  court.  It 
was  a  technical  question.  Precedent  probably  governed. 
Still,  it  was  dangerous — not  straight.  If  Frank  could  get 
them  out  and  deposit  them  it  would  be  so  much  better. 

"I'd  take  them  up  if  I  were  you  and  I  could." 

"I  will  if  lean." 

"How  much  money  have  you?" 

"Oh,  twenty  thousand,  all  told.  If  I  suspend,  though, 
I'll  have  to  have  a  little  ready  cash." 

"I  have  eight  or  ten  thousand,  or  will  have  by  night, 
I  hope." 

He  was  thinking  of  some  one  who  would  give  him  a 
second  mortgage  on  his  house. 

Cowperwood  looked  quietly  at  him.  There  was  nothing 
more  to  be  said  to  his  father.  "I'm  going  to  make  one 
more  appeal  to  Stener  after  you  leave  here,"  he  said. 
"I'm  going  over  there  with  Harper  Steger  when  he  comes. 
If  he  won't  change  I'll  send  out  notice  to  my  creditors, 
and  notify  the  secretary  of  the  exchange.  I  want  you 
to  keep  a  stiff  upper  lip,  whatever  happens.  I  know  you 
will,  though.  I'm  going  into  the  thing  head  down.  If 
Stener  had  any  sense — "  He  paused.  "But  what's  the 
use  talking  about  a  damn  fool?" 

He  turned  to  the  window,  thinking  of  how  easy  it  would 
have  been  if  Aileen  and  he  had  not  been  exposed  by  this 
anonymous  note  to  have  arranged  all  with  Butler.  Rather 
than  injure  the  party,  Butler,  in  extremis,  would  have 

412 


THE    FINANCIER 

assisted  him,  so  he  thought,  gone  into  partnership,  pos 
sibly.  Now.  .  .! 

He  turned  back,  for  his  father  had  got  up.  The  latter 
was  as  stiff  with  despair  as  though  he  were  suffering  from 
cold.  Once  more  he  put  his  hand  to  his  mouth. 

"Well,"  he  said,  wearily. 

Cowperwood  suffered  intensely  for  him.  What  a 
shame !  His  father !  He  felt  a  great  surge  of  feeling  and 
sorrow  sweep  to  his  brain,  and  then  he  settled  down  to  his 
brilliant,  defiant  thinking.  His  father  went  out.  Harper 
Steger  was  brought  in.  They  shook  hands,  and. at  once 
started  for  Stener's  office.  He  saw  Stener;  but  Mr. 
Sengstack,  with  his  small  body  and  club  foot,  was  there 
in  the  background  of  an  outer  room,  and  this  visit  was 
useless.  Stener  had  sunk  in  on  himself  like  an  empty 
gas-bag,  and  no  efforts  were  sufficient  to  inflate  him. 
They  went  out,  finally,  defeated. 

"I  tell  you,  Frank,"  said  Steger,  "I  wouldn't  worry. 
We  can  tie  this  thing  up  legally  until  election  and  after, 
and  that  will  give  all  this  row  a  chance  to  die  down. 
Then  you  can  get  your  people  together  and  talk  sense  to 
them.  They're  not  going  to  give  up  good  properties  like 
this,  even  if  Stener  does  go  to  jail." 

Steger  did  not  know  of  the  sixty  thousand  dollars'  worth 
of  hypothecated  securities  as  yet.  Neither  did  he  know 
of  Aileen  Butler  and  her  father's  boundless  rage. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

WE  must  turn  a  moment  from  the  affairs  of  Mr.  Frank 
Algernon  Cowperwood  to  those  of  his  wife. 
During  the  years  that  had  elapsed  since  the  time  when 
Frank  Cowperwood  and  his  wife  were  married  many  and 
notable  changes  had  taken  place.  Cowperwood  had  filled 
out  from  the  daring,  aggressive  frame  of  youth  to  the 
broader,  more  impassive  solidity  of  manhood.  He  knew  so 
much  more  of  life  now — of  the  actual  practical  workings 
of  life — than  he  had  thirteen  years  before,  when  he  sus 
pected  everything.  Experience  had  given  him  a  larger 
tolerance,  a  kindlier  understanding  of  weakness,  without 
in  the  least  modifying  that  practical  control  of  affairs — 
that  ability  to  say  no  and  do  no  when  it  served  his  in 
terests  so  to  do — which  was  his  chief  est  and  most  imposing 
characteristic.  Those  who  have  come  closest  to  men 
of  large  understanding  and  great  executive  judgment 
have  always  marveled  at  the  seeming  cruelty  which 
stops  short  of  nothing  to  achieve  a  given  desired  point. 
Failure  is  their  bete  noir.  Weakness  the  real  crime  in  an 
individual.  They  take  into  account  only  the  significant 
things  of  life,  and  those  only  in  their  finest  flower — health, 
strength,  wisdom,  courage,  magnetism,  and,  above  all,  that 
subtlest  of  all  qualities,  the  luck  to  succeed,  which  they  put 
above  every  virtue .  "I  am  no  spiritualist  nor  theosophis t , ' ' 
wrote  one  not  long  since,  ''but  this  gift,  or  occasional 
visitation  of  Providence,  or  whatever  else  people  may 
choose  to  call  it,  to  which  I  am  subject  at  intervals,  has 
saved  me  from  being  financially  shattered  at  least  two  or 
three  times  every  year.  I  do  not  indulge  in  any  table- 
tapping  or  dark  seances,  as  did  the  elder  Vanderbilt; 

414 


THE    FINANCIER 

but  this  strange,  peculiar,  and  admonitory  influence  has 
always  clung  to  me  in  times  of  approaching  squalls  more 
tenaciously  than  at  any  other.  It  has  enabled  me  to 
take  points  on  the  market  in  at  one  ear  and  dispose  of 
them  through  the  other  without  suffering  any  evil  con 
sequences  therefrom.  I  have  known  others  who  have  had 
these  mysterious  forebodings,  but  who  recklessly  disre 
garded  them;  and  this  has  been  the  rock  on  which  they 
have  split  in  speculative  emergencies." 

Cowperwood  had  this  sixth  sense,  or  gift,  or  psychic  con 
trol,  or  whatever  else  you  may  choose  to  call  it;  he  ex 
pected  it  in  others — in  those  he  worked  with  closely. 
He  insisted  on  dealing  with  them  solely  in  so  far  as  this 
was  practicable.  In  his  own  home  he  introduced  an  ele 
ment  of  this  demand  for  perfection  more  and  more  as  he 
grew  older.  But  his  wife.  It  was  just  a  little  over 
thirteen  years  since  he  married  her,  and  she  was  nearing 
forty — well  within  her  thirty-ninth  year,  which  was 
five  years  older  than  he  was  now.  That  original  glamour 
which  five  years  of  quiet  married  life  had  not  removed 
at  the  time  he  first  saw  her,  was  practically  gone.  She 
was  not  so  plump  for  her  size  as  she  originally  had  been 
— more  noticeably  angular.  If  you  could  have  looked 
under  her  chin  you  would  have  noticed  now  that  a  little 
network  of  wrinkles  had  come,  which  is  to  the  life-loving 
woman  such  a  discouraging  forerunner  of  approaching 
age.  Her  eyes  at  the  edges,  her  lips  at  the  corners,  her 
nose  at  its  clear  juncture  with  her  face,  had  those  faint, 
suspicious  depressions  which  women  dread  so  much. 
She  was  graceful  yet,  and  charming;  practical,  too,  in 
a  narrow  way,  not  grieving  over  life  and  death.  But 
that,  perhaps,  was  just  what  he  missed  most  of  all,  if  one 
would  have  believed  it — that  keen  sense  of  the  pathos 
of  things  that  makes  the  exceptional  woman.  Aileen 
had  something  of  it — a  hearty  understanding  of  the  vast 
difference  between  success  and  failure.  She  seemed  quite 
aware  that  she  was  at  the  zenith  of  her  beauty.  She  was 


THE    FINANCIER 

quite  capable  in  a  slightly  crude  way  of  telling  what  it 
meant  to  him  and  to  her. 

"There's  one  thing,"  she  said  to  him,  one  day,  "I'm 
ten  years  younger  than  you  are.  I'll  still  be  all  right 
when  you're  fifty." 

He  smiled  at  this  keen  understanding  of  life.  It  was 
these  psychological  touches,  this  occasional  brilliant  flash 
of  raw,  almost  brutal  understanding  that  fascinated  him. 
He  knew  how  she  was  figuring  —  on  a  physical  basis 
purely.  He  felt  that  Edward  Butler  and  his  wife — 
their  brute  strength — were  not  entirely  unrepresented  in 
her.  And  what  she  said  was  probably  true.  He  was  not 
sure  of  that,  but  he  loved  her  beauty  just  the  same,  and 
her  mind — her  awareness. 

"Yes,  sweet,  I  think  you  will.  I  hope  so,  anyhow. 
You  deserve  to  be." 

She  felt  sure  that  she  was  to  have  him  all  to  her 
self  some  day  —  how,  she  could  not  say;  but  she 
would. 

"Do  you  think  you'll  ever  get  a  divorce?"  she  occasion 
ally  asked. 

"You'll  have  to  wait,  honey.  I'll  do  the  best  I  can. 
When  I  do,  we  get  married  at  once." 

Her  eyes  sparkled. 

Oh,  to  be  Mrs.  Frank  Algernon  Cowperwood! 

Explain  me  this  riddle  if  you  can. 

And  now  he  was  worried,  at  times,  as  to  how  he  would 
ever  rid  himself  of  his  wife  easily  and  without  publicity, 
and  he  thought  and  thought.  There  was  no  feasible 
way.  "There  was  no  reasonable  excuse  for  being  brutal. 
He  did  not  know  that  he  wanted  to  be.  That  would  be 
quite  too  unfair.  But  his  life  was  so  much  larger  and 
broader  now.  If  he  only  had  Aileen  now,  how  much  more 
suitably  arranged  he  would  be!  Then  came  this  storm; 
and  the  same  day  that  brought  Edward  Butler  the 
anonymous  communication  in  regard  to  his  daughter 
brought  almost  a  duplicate  of  it  in  the  same  hand  to  Mrs. 

416 


THE    FINANCIER 

Frank  Algernon  Cowperwood,  only  in  this  case  the  name 
of  Aileen  Butler  had  curiously  been  omitted. 

Perhaps  you  don't  know  that  your  husband  is  running  with  an 
other  woman.  If  you  don't  believe  it,  watch  the  house  at  931 
North  Tenth  Street. 

Mrs.  Cowperwood  was  in  the  conservatory  of  her  own 
home  watering  some  plants  when  this  letter  was  brought 
by  her  maid  on  this  fatal  Monday  morning.  She  was 
most  placid  in  her  thoughts,  for  she  did  not  know  what 
all  the  conferring  of  the  night  before  meant.  Frank  was 
occasionally  troubled  by  financial  storms,  but  they  did 
not  seem  to  harm  him. 

"  Lay  it  on  the  table  in  the  library,  Annie.     I'll  get  it." 

She  thought  it  was  some  social  note. 

In  a  little  while,  such  was  her  deliberate  way,  she  put 
down  her  sprinkling-pot"  and  went  into  the  library.  There 
it  was  lying  on  the  green  leather  sheepskin  which  con 
stituted  a  part  of  the  ornamentation  of  the  large  library 
table.  She  picked  it  up,  glanced  at  it  curiously  because  it 
was  on  cheap  paper,  and  then  opened  it.  Her  face,  al 
ways  placid,  paled  slightly  as  she  read  it;  and  then  her 
hand  trembled — not  much.  Hers  was  not  a  soul  that 
ever  loved  passionately,  hence  she  could  not  suffer  pas 
sionately.  She  was  hurt,  disgusted,  enraged  some  for  the 
moment,  and  frightened;  but  she  was  not  broken  in  spirit 
entirely.  Thirteen  years  of  life  with  Frank  Cowperwood 
had  taught  her  a  number  of  things.  He  was  selfish,  she 
knew  now,  self -centered,  and  not  as  much  charmed  by 
her  now  as  he  had  been.  The  fear  she  had  originally 
felt  as  to  the  effect  of  her  preponderance  of  years  had 
been  to  some  extent  justified  by  the  lapse  of  time.  Frank 
did  not  love  her  as  he  had — he  had  not  for  some  time; 
she  had  felt  it.  What  was  it?  she  had  asked  herself  at 
times — almost,  who  was  it?  Business  was  so  engrossing 
to  him.  Finance  was  such  a  master.  Did  this  mean  the 
end  of  her  regime?  she  queried.  Would  he  cast  her  off? 

417 


THE    FINANCIER 

Where  would  she  go?  What  would  she  do?  She  was 
not  helpless,  of  course,  for  she  had  money  of  her  own 
which  he  was  manipulating  for  her.  Who  was  this  other 
woman?  Curiously,  the  other  woman  did  not  seem  so 
vastly  important — that  is,  who  she  was.  Was  she  young, 
beautiful,  of  any  social  position?  Was  it — ?  Suddenly 
she  stopped.  Was  it?  Could  it  be,  by  any  chance — her 
mouth  opened — Aileen  Butler? 

She  stood  still  staring  at  this  letter,  for  she  could 
scarcely  countenance  her  own  thought.  She  had  ob 
served  often,  in  spite  of  all  their  caution,  how  nice  Aileen 
had  been  to  him  and  he  to  her.  He  liked  her;  he  never 
lost  a  chance  to  defend  her.  Lillian  had  thought  of  them 
at  times  as  being  curiously  suited  to  each  other  tempera 
mentally.  He  liked  young  people.  But,  of  course,  he 
was  married,  and  Aileen  was  infinitely  beneath  him  social 
ly,  and  he  had  two  children  and  herself.  And  his  social 
and  financial  position  was  so  fixed  and  stable  that  he  did 
not  dare  trifle  with  it.  Still  she  paused;  for  forty  years 
and  two  children,  and  some  slight  wrinkles,  and  the  sus 
picion  that  we  may  be  no  longer  loved  as  we  once  were, 
is  apt  to  make  any  one  pause,  even  in  the  face  of  the  most 
significant  financial  position.  Where  would  she  go  if  she 
left  him?  What  would  people  think?  What  about  the 
children?  Could  she  prove  this  liaison?  Could  she  en 
trap  him  in  a  compromising  situation?  Did  she  want 
to? 

Greater  knowledge  of  Frank  Cowperwood  had  given 
her  a  form  of  awe  of  him  which  was  not  unmixed  with 
sincere  admiration.  She  was  in  the  least  way  a  little 
afraid  of  him.  Those  keen,  searching  eyes  of  his  so  often 
ran  her  over,  and  she  felt  that  he  was  estimating  her 
materially,  even  when  she  could  not  tell  what  he  was 
thinking.  She  felt  that  she  knew  him,  and  yet  she  didn't. 
He  was  never  given  to  tantrums.  He  did  not  burst  out 
into  revealing  fits  of*rage.  If  he  were  disappointed  in 
anything,  he  was  apt  to  say  so  shortly  but  not  meanly. 

418 


THE    FINANCIER 

There  was  always  present  a  sense  of  latent  force — great 
strength  and  judgment  that  need  not  be  used  at  all. 
Too,  he  was  not  inclined  to  talk  about  his  affairs  any 
more.  Once,  in  the  beginning,  he  had  talked  quite  con 
fidentially — how  fully,  she  could  not  have  said.  She  had 
never  had  the  feeling  that  he  was  telling  her  everything. 
Now,  however,  of  late — say  the  last  three  or  four  years — 
he  had  scarcely  talked  at  all.  Their  conversation  had 
become  more  and  more  perfunctory.  He  had  talked,  to 
be  sure,  easily,  pleasantly,  of  all  the  little  household  con 
cerns  and  cares,  but  not  about  the  things  in  which  he  was 
vastly  interested.  Occasionally  he  would  say  something 
—that  he  expected  to  make  a  good  thing  out  of  a  certain 
line  of  stocks.  She  heard  more,  if  anything,  through 
chance  snatches  of  conversation  which  came  borne  by 
sound-waves  when  he  and  his  father  were  talking.  The 
two  men  occasionally  sat  in  one  or  the  other  of  the  two 
family  libraries  or  sitting-rooms  or  private  offices,  and 
talked  sometimes  so  softly  you  could  not  hear;  at  other 
times  so  clearly  that  you  got  some  faint  inkling  of  what 
it  was  all  about — farely  anything  more  than  that.  Frank 
and  his  father  were  doing  very  well;  she  knew  that. 
They  were  in  street-railways.  Her  own  money  was  in 
vested  in  some  way  in  them.  The  city  treasurer  and  the 
State  treasurer  and  the  city  councilmen,  a  few  of  them, 
and  Butler  and  Mr.  Leigh,  of  Drexel's,  and  others,  were 
somehow  all  involved — how,  she  did  not  know.  It  seemed 
to  her  that  Frank  had  a  vast  network  of  connections; 
that  he  knew  a  very  large  number  of  people  financially. 
He  must  be  a  very  remarkable  man,  indeed.  And  yet  it 
was  all  summed  up  in  one  strange,  enigmatic,  non- 
understandable  word — business.  Frank  was  a  great 
business  man,  a  financier.  He  was  scarcely  human 
enough  to  be  a  good  lover  any  more.  And  yet  he  was  so 
fascinating  when  he  wanted  to  be. 

This  letter,  though — how  it  tormented  her!     She  saw 
now,  by  the  very  state  of  mind  she  was  in,  that  she  did, 

419 


THE    FINANCIER 

not  love  him  as  some  women  loved  their  husbands.  She 
was  not  wild  about  him.  In  a  way  she  had  been  taking 
him  for  granted  all  these  years,  had  thought  that  he  loved 
her  enough  not  to  be  unfaithful  to  her;  at  least  fancied 
that  he  was  so  engrossed  with  the  more  serious  things  of 
life  that  no  petty  liaison  such  as  this  letter  indicated 
would  trouble  him  or  interrupt  his  great  career.  Now, 
though,  this  was  evidently  not  true.  This  apparently 
very  solid  and  distinguished  home  was,  after  all,  built  on 
shifting  sands.  What  should  she  do?  What  say?  How 
act? 

She  dropped  the  letter  after  a  time  and  stood  there, 
then  picked  it  up  and  went  into  her  private  boudoir.  She 
hid  it  in  her  bosom,  and  wondered  how  she  would  go  about 
it  to  watch  this  house,  if  she  did  at  all.  Could  she? 
What  about  the  children,  her  friends,  her  social  station? 
She  wrung  her  hands  after  a  time,  for  it  was  only  after 
an  hour  of  thinking  that  she  began,  as  she  fancied,  to 
catch  the  significance  of  it  all.  Frank  Cowperwood  was 
lost  to  her.  Could  she  regain  him?  Could  she  hold  him? 
There  had  been  in  times  past  some  little  silly  feeling  be 
tween  them  over  Aileen  in  regard  to  the  question  of  en 
tertaining  her,  liking  her;  but  this  was  so  different,  so 
much  more  important.  Her  none  too  brilliant  mind  was 
not  of  much  service  in  this  crisis.  She  did  not  know 
very  well  how  either  to  plan  or  to  fight. 

The  conventional  mind  is  at  best  a  petty  piece  of 
machinery.  It  is  oyster-like  in  its  functioning,  or,  per 
haps  better,  clam-like.  It  has  its  little  siphon  of  thought- 
processes  forced  up  or  down  into  the  mighty  ocean  of 
fact  and  circumstance;  but  it  uses  so  little,  pumps  so 
faintly,  that  the  immediate  contiguity  of  the  vast  is  not 
disturbed.  Nothing  of  the  subtlety  of  life  is  perceived. 
No  least  inkling  of  its  storms  or  terrors  is  ever  discovered 
except  through  accident.  When  some  crude,  suggestive 
fact,  such  as  this  letter  proved  to  be,  suddenly  manifests 
itself  in  the  placid  flow  of  events,  there  is  great  agony  or 

420 


THE    FINANCIER 

disturbance  and  clogging  of  the  so-called  normal  proc 
esses.  The  siphon  does  not  work  right.  It  sucks  in  fear 
and  distress.  There  is  great  grinding  of  mal-ad justed 
parts — not  unlike  sand  in  a  machine — and  life,  as  is  so 
often  the  case,  ceases  or  goes  lamely  ever  after. 

Mrs.  Cowperwood  was  possessed  of  a  conventional 
mind.  She  was  charming,  but  she  really  knew  nothing 
about  life.  And  life  could  not  teach  her.  Reaction  in 
her  from  salty  thought-processes  was  not  possible.  She 
was  not  alive  in  the  sense  that  Aileen  Butler  was,  and  yet 
she  thought  that  she  was  very  much  alive.  All  illusion. 
She  wasn't.  She  was  charming  if  you  loved  placidity. 
If  you  did  not,  she  was  not.  She  was  not  engaging, 
brilliant,  or  forceful.  Frank  Cowperwood  might 
have  asked  himself  in  the  beginning  why  he  married  her. 
He  did  not  do  so  now  because  he  did  not  believe  it  was 
wise  to  question  the  past  as  to  our  failures  and  errors. 
It  was,  according  to  him,  most  unwise  to  regret.  He  kept 
his  face  and  thoughts  to  the  future. 

But  Mrs.  Cowperwood  was  truly  distressed  in  her  way, 
and  she  went  about  the  house  thinking,  feeling  wretched 
ly.  She  decided,  since  the  letter  asked  her  to  see  for  her 
self,  to  wait.  She  must  think  how  she  would  watch  this 
house,  if  at  all.  Frank  must  not  know.  If  it  were 
Aileen  Butler  by  any  chance — but  surely  not — she  thought 
she  would  expose  her  to  her  parents.  Still,  that  meant 
exposing  herself.  She  determined  to  conceal  her  mood  as 
best  she  could  at  dinner-time — but  Cowperwood  was  not 
able  to  be  there.  He  was  so  rushed,  so  closeted  with  in 
dividuals,  so  closely  in  conference  with  his  father  and 
others,  that  she  scarcely  saw  him  this  Monday  night,  nor 
the  next  day,  Tuesday,  nor  for  many  days. 

For  on  Tuesday  afternoon  at  two-thirty  Frank  Cow 
perwood  had  issued  a  call  for  a  meeting  of  his  creditors, 
and  at  five-thirty  he  decided  to  go  into  the  hands  of  a 
receiver.  Old  Cowperwood  was  beside  himself  with  grief. 
He  foresaw  the  end  of  all  his  dignities,  comforts,  honors. 

421 


THE    FINANCIER 

In  his  own  home,  after  the  meeting,  in  his  private  room, 
he  walked  the  floor  and  wrung  his  hands,  struck  them 
together  again  and  again.  He  got  out  his  private 
account-books  and  went  over  his  affairs,  only  to  shake 
his  head  ruefully.  He  was  ruined.  Frank's  connection 
with  the  city  treasurer's  office  would  be  exposed.  He 
himself  would  be  ousted  from  his  presidency.  He  and 
his  wife  and  his  sons  and  daughter  and  Frank's  wife  and 
his  grandchildren  would  have  to  move.  There  was  an 
air  about  his  house  and  Frank's  now,  he  thought,  as 
though  some  one  had  died  in  them.  You  could  feel  a 
sense  of  dissolution.  And  yet  Frank  Cowperwood,  as 
he  stood  before  his  principal  creditors  —  a  group  of 
thirty  men — in  his  office,  did  not  feel  that  his  life  was 
ruined.  He  was  temporarily  embarrassed.  Certainly 
things  looked  very  black.  The  city-treasurership  deal 
would  make  a  great  fuss.  Those  hypothecated  city  loan 
certificates,  to  the  extent  of  sixty  thousand,  would  make 
another,  if  Stener  chose.  Still,  he  did  not  feel  that  he 
was  utterly  destroyed. 

"Gentlemen,"  he  said,  in  closing  his  address  of  explana 
tion  at  the  meeting,  quite  as  erect,  secure,  defiant,  con 
vincing  as  he  had  ever  been,  "you  see  how  things  are. 
These  securities  are  worth  just  as  much  as  they  ever  were. 
There  is  nothing  the  matter  with  the  properties  behind 
them.  If  you  will  give  me  fifteen  days  or  twenty,  I  am 
satisfied  that  I  can  straighten  the  whole  matter  out.  I 
am  almost  the  only  one  who  can,  for  I  know  all  about  it. 
The  market  is  bound  to  recover.  Business  is  going  to  be 
better  than  ever.  It's  time  I  want.  Time  is  the  only 
significant  factor  in  this  situation.  I  want  to  know  if  you 
won't  give  me  fifteen  or  twenty  days — a  month,  if  you 
can.  That  is  all  I  want." 

He  stepped  aside  and  out  of  the  general  room,  where 
the  blinds  were  drawn,  into  his  private  office,  in  order 
to  give  his  creditors  an  opportunity  to-  confer  privately 
in  regard  to  his  situation.  He  had  friends  in  the  meet- 

422 


THE    FINANCIER 

ing  who  were  for  him.  He  waited  one,  two,  nearly  three 
hours  while  they  talked.  Finally  Walter  Leigh,  Judge 
Kitchen,  Avery  Stone,  of  Jay  Cooke  &  Co.,  and  several 
others  came  in.  They  were  a  committee  appointed  to 
gather  further  information. 

"Nothing  more  can  be  done  to-day,  Frank,"  Walter 
Leigh  informed  him,  quietly.  "The  majority  want  the 
privilege  of  examining  the  books.  There  is  some  uncer 
tainty  about  this  entanglement  with  the  city  treasurer 
which  you  say  exists.  They  feel  that  you'd  better  an 
nounce  a  temporary  suspension,  anyhow;  and  if  they 
want  to  let  you  resume  later  they  can  do  so." 

"I'm  sorry  for  that,  gentlemen,"  replied  Cowperwood, 
the  least  bit  depressed.  "I  would  rather  do  anything 
than  suspend  for  one  hour,  if  I  could  help  it,  for  I  know 
just  what  it  means.  You  will  find  assets  here  far  exceed 
ing  the  liabilities  if  you  will  take  the  stocks  at  their  nor 
mal  market  value;  but  that  won't  help  any  if  I  close  my 
doors.  The  public  won't  believe  in  me.  I  ought  to  keep 
open.  It's  not  fair  to  charge  this  Chicago  fire  up  to  me, 
although  I  know  that's  legitimate  enough  under  the  cir 
cumstances." 

"Sorry,  Frank,  old  boy,"  observed  Leigh,  pressing  his 
hand  affectionately.  "If  it  were  left  to  me  personally, 
you  could  have  all  the  time  you  want.  There's  a  crowd  of 
old  fogies  out  there  that  won't  listen  to  reason.  They're 
panic-struck.  I  guess  they're  pretty  hard  hit  them 
selves.  You  can  scarcely  blame  them.  You'll  come  out 
all  right,  though  I  wish  you  didn't  have  to  shut  up  shop. 
We  can't  do  anything  with  them,  however.  Why,  damn 
it  man,  I  don't  see  how  you  can  fail,  really.  In  ten  days 
these  stocks  will  be  all  right." 

Judge  Kitchen  commiserated  with  him  also;  but  what 
good  did  that  do?  He  was  being  compelled  to  suspend. 
An  expert  accountant  would  have  to  come  in  and  go  over 
his  books.  Butler  might  spread  the  news  of  this  city- 
treasury  connection.  Stener  might  complain  of  this  last 

423 


THE    FINANCIER 

city-loan  transaction.  It  was  a  serious  matter  if  he  could 
not  open  his  doors  in  the  morning;  and  he  couldn't.  He 
was  never  left  alone  by  a  half-dozen  of  his  helpful  friends 
from  then  on  until  morning;  but  he  had  to  suspend  just 
the  same.  And  when  he  did  that  he  knew  he  was  prac 
tically  defeated  in  this  first  brilliant  race  for  wealth  and 
fame. 

Once,  and  once  only,  when  he  was  really  and  finally 
quite  alone  in  his  private  bedroom  at  four  in  the  morning 
— he  and  his  wife  had  always  occupied  separate  rooms  in 
the  new  house — he  stared  at  himself  in  the  mirror.  His 
face  was  pale  and  tired,  he  thought,  but  strong  and  effec 
tive.  "Pshaw!"  he  said  to  himself,  "I'm  not  whipped. 
I'll  get  out  of  this.  Certainly  I  will.  I'll  find  some  way ." 

And  he  began  to  undress,  cogitating  heavily,  wearily. 
Finally  he  sank  upon  his  bed,  and  in  a  little  while,  strange 
as  it  may  seem,  with  all  the  tangle  of  trouble  around 
him,  slept.  He  could  do  that  —  sleep  and  gurgle  most 
peacefully,  the  while  his  old  father  paced  the  floor  in  his 
room,  refusing  to  be  comforted.  All  was  dark  before  the 
older  man — the  future  hopeless.  He  turned  wearily  to 
and  fro  in  his  short  space  and  sighed.  Frank  only  turned 
once  in  his  slumber,  and  he  did  not  dream.  He  was  in 
tensely  weary. 

Mrs.  Frank  Cowperwood  in  her  room  turned  and 
tossed  in  the  face  of  a  new  calamity.  It  had  suddenly 
appeared  from  news  from  her  father  and  Frank  and  Anna 
and  her  mother-in-law  that  Frank  was  about  to  fail,  or 
would,  or  had — it  was  almost  impossible  to  say  just  how 
it  was.  Frank  was  too  busy  to  explain.  The  Chicago  fire 
was  to  blame.  There  was  no  mention  as  yet  of  the  city 
treasurership.  Frank  was  caught  in  a  trap,  and  was 
fighting  for  his  life. 

In  this  crisis,  for  the  moment,  she  forgot  about  the  note 
as  to  his  infidelity,  or  rather  ignored  it.  She  was  as 
tonished,  frightened,  dumfounded,  confused.  Her  little, 
placid,  beautiful  world  was  going  around  in  a  dizzy  ring. 

424 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

It  was  as  though  the  tables  and  chairs  of  her  own  home 
had  begun  to  move  of  their  own  volition  and  without  any 
exterior  aid.  It  was  somewhat  like  an  earthquake,  in 
which  things  tumble  and  fall  about,  or  like  a  storm  at 
sea.  The  charming  ornate  ship  of  their  fortune  was  being 
blown  most  ruthlessly  here  and  there.  She  felt  it  a  sort 
of  duty  to  stay  in  bed  and  try  to  sleep ;  but  her  eyes  were 
quite  wide,  and  her  brain  hurt  her.  Hours  before  Frank 
had  insisted  that  she  should  not  bother  about  him,  but 
rest,  that  she  could  do  nothing;  and  she  had  gone,  won 
dering  more  than  ever  what  and  where  was  the  line  of  her 
duty.  To  stick  by  her  husband,  convention  told  her; 
and  so  she  decided.  Yes,  religion  dictated  that,  also 
custom.  There  were  the  children.  They  must  not  be 
injured.  Frank  must  be  reclaimed,  if  possible.  He 
would  get  over  this.  But  what  a  blow!  She  also  turned 
from  side  to  side  wearily,  and  by  dawn  had  not  had  a 
single  wink  of  sleep. 


CHAPTER   XXXVIII 

HPHE  suspension  of  the  banking  house  of  Frank  A. 
1  Cowperwood  &  Co.  created  a  great  stir  on  'change 
and  in  Philadelphia  generally.  It  was  so  unexpected,  and 
the  amount  involved  was  comparatively  so  large.  Act 
ually  he  failed  for  one  million  two  hundred  and  fifty  thou 
sand  dollars;  and  his  assets,  under  the  depressed  condi 
tion  of  stock  values,  barely  totaled  seven  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand  dollars.  There  had  been  considerable  work 
done  on  the  matter  of  his  balance-sheet  by  him,  and  also 
by  his  father  and  Harper  Steger,  his  lawyer,  before  it 
was  finally  given  to  the  public;  but  when  it  was,  stocks 
dropped  an  additional  three  points  generally,  and  the 
papers  the  next  day  devoted  notable  head-lines  to  it. 
Cowperwood  had  no  idea  of  failing  permanently;  he 
merely  wished  to  suspend  temporarily,  and  later,  if  pos 
sible,  to  persuade  his  creditors  to  allow  him  to  resume. 
There  were  only  two  things  which  stood  in  the  way  of 
this:  the  matter  of  the  five  hundred  thousand  dollars 
borrowed  from  the  city  treasury  at  a  ridiculously  low  rate 
of  interest,  which  showed  plainer  than  words  what  had 
been  going  on,  and  the  other,  the  matter  of  the  sixty- 
thousand-dollar  check.  Cowperwood  had  the  fear  of 
disaster  ensuing  from  these  causes,  if  any  such  thought 
in  him  could  be  called  fear;  and  he  had  done  his  very 
best  up  to  the  final  hour  to  make  his  chances  of  resuming 
— barring  these  two  difficulties — as  secure  as  possible. 
His  financial  wit  told  him  there  were  ways  to  assign  his 
holdings  in  favor  of  his  largest  creditors,  who  would  help 
him  later  to  resume;  and  he  was  swift  to  do  this.  Harper 

426 


THE    FINANCIER 

Steger,  his  lawyer,  drew  up  documents  which  named  Jay 
Cooke  &  Co.,  Edward  Clark  £  Co.,  Drexel  &  Co.,  and 
others  as  preferred.  He  knew  that  even  though  dissatis 
fied  holders  of  smaller  shares  in  his  company  brought 
suit  and  compelled  readjustment  or  bankruptcy  later, 
the  intention  shown  to  prefer  some  of  his  most  influential 
aids  was  important.  They  would  like  it,  and  might  help 
him  later  when  all  this  was  over.  Besides,  suits  in  plenty 
are  an  excellent  way  of  tiding  over  a  crisis  of  this  kind 
until  stocks  and  common  sense  are  restored,  and  he  was 
for  many  suits.  Harper  Steger  smiled  once  rather  grim 
ly,  even  in  the  whirl  of  the  financial  chaos  where  smiles 
were  few,  as  they  were  figuring  it  out. 

" Frank,"  he  said,  "you're  a  wonder.  You'll  have  a 
network  of  suits  spread  here  shortly,  which  no  one  can 
break  through.  They'll  all  be  suing  each  other." 

Cowperwood  smiled. 

"I  only  want  a  little  time,  that's  all,"  he  replied. 
Nevertheless,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  was  a  little 
depressed;  for  now  this  business,  to  which  he  had  devoted 
years  of  active  work  and  thought,  was  ended.  He, 
Frank  A.  Cowperwood,  was  insolvent.  His  house  and 
many  interesting  private  belongings  were  in  danger  of 
being  immediately  swept  away.  His  father,  because  of 
him,  was  a  bankrupt  also,  and  might  immediately  be  re 
moved  unless  something  were  done  to  restore  the  credit 
of  his  son.  The  worst  thing,  of  course,  was  the  matter  of 
the  treasury  loan,  and  what  it  represented.  This  notable 
defection  of  Stener  worried  Cowperwood.  He  sensed 
the  cunning  and  animosity  of  bigger  men  behind  it — pos 
sibly  Butler  now,  for  he  knew  the  latter 's  estranged  atti 
tude  to  be  a  certainty;  and  he  did  not  see  clearly  how  the 
matter  was  to  be  arranged  without  some  talk,  and  pos 
sibly  action,  which  would  be  injurious.  He  did  think  of 
going  to  Mollenhauer,  whom  he  knew  of  indirectly,  and 
laying  the  whole  matter  before  him,  but  he  was  so  busy 
with  other  matters  for  the  first  day  or  two  that  he  had  no 

427 


THE    FINANCIER 

time  to  attend  to  it.     He  was  more  than  satisfied  that  he 
would  before  long. 

The  thing  that  was  troubling  Cowperwood  most  in 
all  of  this  was  not  the  five  hundred  thousand  dollars  which 
was  owing  the  city  treasury,  and  which  he  knew  would 
stir  political  and  social  life  to  the  center  once  it  was 
generally  known — that  was  a  legal  or  semi-legal  trans 
action,  at  least — but  rather  the  minor,  though  to  him,  in 
reality,  so  far  as  legal  retribution  was  concerned,  the 
major  matter  of  the  sixty  thousand  dollars'  worth  of  un- 
restored  city  loan  certificates  which  he  had  not  been  able 
to  replace  in  the  sinking-fund.  Actually,  it  was  a  crime 
not  to  have  done  that,  under  the  circumstances,  though 
heretofore,  in  fair  weather,  he  had  taken  his  time  about  it. 
Technically,  he  would  say  that  he  had  always  been  in  the 
habit  of  taking  his  time.  His  accounting  with  the  treasury 
was  never  made  until  the  first  of  the  month.  But  could 
he  say,  honestly,  that  he  had  intended  at  the  time  that 
he  asked  Albert  Stires  for  the  sixty-thousand-dollar  check 
to  replace  the  absent  city  loan  certificates  in  the  sinking- 
fund?  He  had  already  owed  the  city  five  hundred  thou 
sand  dollars  in  illegally  borrowed  money  at  that  time.  He 
had  been  told  by  Stener  that  he  could  not  have  any  more. 
He  had  not  asked  Stener's  permission  to  call  for  this  check, 
and  the  latter  would  probably  tell  his  superiors  that  this 
additional  sum  had  literally  been  stolen  without  his  knowl 
edge  or  consent,  and  after  he,  Stener,  had  broken  with 
him.  Cowperwood  pondered  over  the  situation  a  good 
deal.  The  thing  to  do,  he  thought,  if  he  went  to  Mollen- 
hauer  or  Simpson,  or  both  (he  had  never  met  either  of 
them,  but  in  view  of  Butler's  desertion  they  were  his  only 
recotirse),  was  to  say  that,  although  he  could  not  at 
present  return  the  five  hundred  thousand  dollars,  if  no 
injurious  action  were  taken  against  him  now,  such  as 
would  prevent  his  resuming  his  business  on  a  normal 
scale  a  little  later,  he  would  pledge  his  word  that  every 
dollar  of  the  involved  five  hundred  thousand  dollars  would 

428 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

eventually  be  returned  to  the  treasury.  If  they  refused, 
and  injury  was  done  him,  he  proposed  to  let  them  wait 
until  he  was  "good  and  ready,"  to  use  an  American  phrase, 
which  in  all  probability  would  be  never,  before  he  returned 
a  dollar.  But,  really,  it  was  not  quite  clear  how  action 
against  him  was  to  be  prevented — even  by  them.  The 
money  was  down  on  his  books  as  owing  the  city  treasury, 
and  it  was  down  on  the  city  treasury's  books  as  owing 
from  him.  Besides,  there  was  a  local  organization  known 
as  the  Citizens'  Municipal  Reform  Association  which  oc 
casionally  conducted  investigations  in  connection  with 
public  affairs.  His  defalcation  would  be  sure  to  come  to 
the  ears  of  this  body.  A  public  investigation,  which 
must  surely  follow,  would  reveal  it.  Various  private 
individuals  knew  of  it  already.  His  creditors,  for  instance, 
who  were  now  examining  his  books. 

To  ask  for  time — to  ask  the  politicians,  for  the  sake  of 
avoiding  a  scandal,  to  hush  up — was  all  very  good  if  they 
could  hush  up.  But  could  they?  The  situation  had  be 
come  already  so  dangerous. 

This  matter  of  seeing  Mollenhauer  or  Simpson,  or 
both,  was  important,  anyhow,  he  thought;  but  before 
doing  so  he  decided  to  talk  all  this  over  with  Harper 
Steger,  his  lawyer,  and  get  the  legal  end  of  it,  so  far  as 
the  sixty-thousand-dollar  check  was  concerned,  straight 
in  his  mind.  So  several  days  after  he  had  closed  his  doors, 
he  sent  for  Steger  and  told  him  all  about  the  transaction, 
except  that  he  did  not  make  it  clear  that  he  had  not  in 
tended  to  put  the  certificates  in  the  sinking-fund  unless 
he  survived  quite  comfortably.  Steger  was  a  little 
dubious;  though  he  thought  that,  seeing  how  loosely  city 
funds  had  always  been  handled,  how  close  the  relations 
of  Cowperwood  and  Stener  were,  nothing  would  come  of 
it  before  a  jury. 

"Let  them  proceed  against  you,"  he  said,  his  brilliant 
legal  mind  taking  in  all  the  phases  of  the  situation  at 
once,  "  I  don't  see  that  there  is  anything  more  here  than 

429 


THE    FINANCIER 

a  technical  charge.  If  it  ever  came  to  anything  like  that, 
which  I  don't  think  it  will,  the  charge  would  be  embezzle 
ment  or  perhaps  larceny  as  bailee.  In  this  instance,  you 
were  the  bailee.  And  the  only  way  out  of  that  would  be 
to  swear  that  you  had  received  the  check  with  Stener's 
knowledge  and  consent.  Then  it  would  only  be  a  tech 
nical  charge  of  irresponsibility  on  your  part,  as  I  see  it, 
and  I  don't  believe  any  jury  would  convict  you  on  the 
evidence  of  how  this  relationship  was  conducted.  Still, 
it  might;  you  never  can  tell  what  a  jury  is  going  to  do." 

"What  would  that  mean,  Harper,  legally,  if  I  were 
tried  on  a  charge  of  larceny  as  bailee,  as  you  put  it,  and 
convicted?  How  many  years  in  the  penitentiary  at  the 
outside?" 

Steger  thought  a  minute,  rubbing  his  chin  with  his 
elegant  hand.  "Let  me  see,"  he  said,  "that  is  a  serious 
question,  isn't  it?  The  law  says  one  to  five  years  at  the 
outside;  but  the  sentences  usually  average  from  one  to 
three  years  in  embezzlement  cases.  Of  course,  in  this 
case — " 

"Would  I  have  to  go  to  jail  at  any  time  during  the  pro 
ceedings — before  a  final  adjustment  of  the  case  by  the 
higher  courts?"  interrupted  Cowperwood.  He  was  think 
ing  of  the  long  legal  fights  that  usually  surround  trials  of 
this  kind  where  money  is  concerned,  and  where  it  is  avail 
able  for  attorneys'  fees;  most  defendants,  he  thought, 
usually  managed  to  avoid  jail  sentence  if  they  had  the 
price. 

Steger  began  a  careful  explanation  of  just  what  the 
motions  and  delays  were  in  a  case  like  this,  while  Cowper 
wood  meditated  solemnly,  his  mind  running  quickly  and 
surely  forward  through  all  the  ramifications  of  his  case. 
What  would  he  do  if  he  were  sentenced?  he  thought. 
Steger  was  wondering  if  Cowperwood  really  thought  he 
was  to  be  tried  by  any  chance  of  fate  or  ill-luck  in  this 
way,  and  whether  he  considered  himself  guilty.  So  far 
Cowperwood  had  indicated  that  he  had  bought  the  cer- 

430 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

tificates  well  enough,  but  that  he  had  not  been  able  to 
deposit  them,  and  had  been  compelled  to  use  the  check 
and  the  certificates  for  another  purpose.  True  enough, 
he  had  not  thought  he  was  going  to  fail,  though  he  had 
not  seen  any  way  out  at  the  time.  It  was  more  a  matter 
of  hope  than  anything  else.  Would  a  jury  take  any  stock 
in  that?  Steger  asked  himself. 

The  young  banker  sat  there  staring  out  of  the  window, 
and  Steger  observed,  " It  is  a  bit  complicated,  isn't  it?" 

"Well,  I  should  say  so,"  returned  Frank;  and  he  added 
to  himself:  "Jail!  Five  days  in  prison!"  That  would  be 
a  terrific  slap,  all  things  considered.  Five  days  in  jail 
pending  the  obtaining  of  a  certificate  of  reasonable  doubt, 
if  one  could  be  obtained!  He  must  avoid  this!  He  got 
up  and  went  out  to  a  creditors'  meeting  with  Steger;  but 
the  thought  was  with  him  all  the  time.  Jail!  The 
penitentiary!  His  commercial  reputation  would  never 
survive  that. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 

FRANK  ALGERNON  COWPERWOOD  was  not  a 
weakling  given  to  wild  ideas  of  financial  prosperity; 
he  was  not  of  the  kind  who  in  prosperity  cut  throats 
indiscriminately  and  in  disaster  sit  down  and  weep  over 
their  own  woes.  Whatever  he  was,  he  was  neither  a 
hypocrite  nor  a  fool.  He  did  not  delude  himself  con 
cerning  himself  or  others.  He  did  not  capitalize  the  fu 
ture.  He  thought,  thought,  thought  all  the  time,  in  pros 
perity  and  in  times  when  he  was  not  so  prosperous.  He 
based  everything  on  thought,  after  he  made  due  allow 
ance  for  chance  and  opportunity,  which  he  could  not  con 
trol.  He  would  have  agreed  with  Machiavelli  that,  other 
things  being  equal,  fortune  is  always  with  him  who  plans. 
He  was  no  fatalist;  or  if  he  was,  he  would  not  give  fate 
the  opportunity  to  say  that  he  had  not  put  up  a  good 
fight — had  not  taken  advantage  of  every  single  oppor 
tunity.  He  was  no  coward;  and,  above  all,  he  was  no 
moralist  suffering  from  an  uneducated  time  conscience. 
He  saw  no  morals  anywhere — nothing  but  moods,  emo 
tions,  needs,  greeds.  People  talked  and  talked,  but  they 
acted  according  to  their  necessities  and  desires,  just  as 
he  did,  only  as  a  rule  they  were  not  quick  and  clever  as 
he  was.'  For  this,  sometimes,  he  was  sorry  for  them. 
At  other  times  he  was  not.  He  knew  he  had  a  splendid 
mind.  He  knew  he  had  a  marvelous  physique.  He  knew 
he  had  a  magnetic  and  dominating  will.  Few  people,  in 
extremes,  could  face  him  out.  By  his  steady  eye,  his  set 
jaw,  and  his  urgent  will  to  achieve  a  victory,  he  could  al 
most,  in  the  face  of  defeat,  snatch  success  from  the  hands 
of  fate.  He  had  done  it  time  and  again.  He  had  seen 

432 


THE    FINANCIER 

himself  ten  years  before  as  a  boy  on  'change  leap  in  when 
hope  seemed  hopeless,  and  wrest  something  from  an  ap 
parently  uncompromising  situation.  Ever  since  then  he 
had  been  doing  this  to  a  greater  or  lesser  degree.  He  had 
done  things  one  week  before  which  no  other  financier  had 
dreamed  of  doing.  He  had  organized,  or  attempted  to 
do  so,  at  least,  opposition  to  impending  overwhelming 
disaster.  If  these  bankers  and  brokers  had  only  taken 
his  advice  and  closed  the  exchange  he  would  have  been 
safe.  But  they  hadn't!  The  trick  had  been  all  in  his 
favor.  Once  he  had  dreamed  of  laying  by  a  reserve  of 
government  bonds  for  just  such  a  crisis  as  this;  but  he 
had  never  done  it.  He  had  been  too  busy  making  money 
— seizing  his  growing  opportunities.  Now  he  was  facing 
the  first  severe  crisis  of  his  life,  and  it  was  an  astonishing 
one.  The  wonder  of  it  was  its  suddenness — its  thunder 
clap  nature — and  the  fact  that  he  had  not  the  least 
thing  to  do  with  it,  neither  previous  warning  nor  present 
opportunity.  His  every  dollar  was  entangled,  involved, 
and  he  was  fighting  for  his  financial  life.  Was  he  really 
going  to  lose  entirely  ?  He  meditated  this  gravely,  won 
dering  what  he  should  do  the  while  he  worked  with 
creditor  after  creditor,  but  he  saw  no  light. 

The  question  as  to  whether  Edward  Malia  Butler 
could  do  anything  to  injure  the  financial  and  social 
prosperity  of  Cowperwood,  once  he  had  become  so  incensed 
against  him,  was  one  which  occupied  the  thoughts  of  both 
Butler  and  Cowperwood  after  their  final  interview,  and 
after  Butler  had  talked  so  directly  to  his  daughter. 

The  latter  had  met  Cowperwood  as  he  had  planned, 
the  day  after  he  closed  his  doors,  at  four  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon,  at  Indian  Rock  on  the  Wissahickon,  stealing 
an  expensive  hour  from  him  to  do  it,  but  eager  to  know 
as  to  his  affairs.  It  cost  him  a  severe  struggle  to  arrange 
it.  At  that  time  he  was  thirty-four  and  Aileen  was 
twenty-four  years  of  age;  and  the  beauty  which  she  had 
always  counted  on  to  hold  him,  when  he  should  be  fifty 

433 


THE    FINANCIER 

and  she  forty,  was  still  in  perfect  bloom.  It  was  the 
thing  which  interested  and  fascinated  him  most,  though 
her  mind  meant  much.  We  say  beauty  loosely  in  this 
way,  when  in  reality  we  mean  so  often  charm  of  soul  or 
temperament  in  addition  to  exquisite  facial  and  physical 
outlines;  and  it  was  so  in  this  case.  Charm  of  tempera 
ment,  as  much  as  physical  beauty,  was  holding  Cowper- 
wood  in  Aileen's  case.  Although  long  since  he  had  rifled 
her  of  every  physical  delight,  she  was  still  dear  to  him. 
He  had  found  that  it  was  not  that  alone.  She  was  like 
him  in  many  respects — courageous,  resourceful,  debonair. 
He  thought  of  her  as  some  one  of  much  more  physical 
force  than  his  wife,  far  better  able  to  bear  a  social  struggle 
for  place.  She  had  never  lost  for  one  moment  the  in 
spiriting  sense  of  her  own  charm,  which  had  been  height 
ened  by  his  continuous  affection  for  her;  and  his  affection 
had  never  been  sufficiently  fed  by  her  continued  presence 
to  weaken  his  interest.  She  had  been  able  to  be  with  him 
so  little,  guarded  as  she  was  by  her  family;  and  this  sudden 
possibility  of  losing  her  among  so  many  other  important 
things,  owing  to  the  wrath  of  her  father,  was  sufficient 
to  make  him  see  her  in  a  more  enchanting  form — the  form 
that  beauty  wears  when  it  is  most  elusive.  Besides,  in 
this  storm,  she,  of  all  people,  was  now  bringing  him  the 
most  unstinted  and  unqualified  fondness — the  love  that 
asks  only  affectionate  recognition  in  return — if  we  may 
call  that  unqualified.  At  least  she  was  asking  no  material 
reward  and  forcing  no  claim.  Her  large  eyes  were  filled 
with  a  warm,  sympathetic  appreciation  of  his  woes,  and 
in  this  hour  he  craved  it. 

It  was  bright  weather,  fortunately,  when  he  drove 
swiftly  out — he  did  not  trouble  to  go  on  horseback  this 
day — and  his  mind  relaxed  a  little  of  its  intense  working 
when  he  saw  her  standing  beside  a  gray  stone  up  the  road 
awaiting  his  coming.  Her  eyes  were  so  solicitous.  She 
looked  so  youthful,  blooming,  and  efficient  as  a  woman, 
which  is  what  affection  requires.  Her  riding-habit  was 

434 


THE    FINANCIER 

of  the  smoothest,  closest-fitting  character.  Her  high 
silk  riding-hat,  such  as  was  worn  in  those  days,  sat  jauntily 
above  her  red-gold  hair.  She  carried  a  bright-yellow 
whip  in  her  hand,  and  looked  very  much  as  she  had 
that  day,  several  years  before,  when  he  had  persuaded 
her  to  consider  how  complete,  finally,  their  union  must 
be.  He  marveled  a  little  at  himself — taking  the  time 
on  this  day  of  all  days  to  come  and  see  her — but  he 
said  to  himself  that  one  need  never  regret  the  bright 
moments  of  love  and  yearning  affection  as  lost.  They 
were  not  numerous  enough.  Aileen  looked  to  see  if 
there  were  any  one  else  in  sight  in  either  direction;  but 
there  was  not.  When  he  jumped  down  from  his  light 
little  runabout,  letting  the  reins  fall  between  the  whip 
and  the  dash-board,  she  threw  her  arms  around  his  neck 
and  held  him  close,  her  lips  crushed  to  his.  His  young 
bay  mare  pawed  and  snorted  vigorously,  throwing  her 
ears  forward  and  back  and  swishing  her  neatly  trimmed 
tail. 

"Oh,  honey,  honey,  honey!"  was  all  Aileen  could  mur 
mur.  "Oh,  my  darling  boy!"  She  was  so  distressed  by 
recent  developments  that  she  could  scarcely  speak. 

She  stroked  his  hair  and  neck  sympathetically,  and  he 
pulled  her  tight  to  him,  feeling  her  cheek  over  her  shoul 
der  with  his  free  hand.  Curiously  enough,  he  noted  the 
undying  coquetry  of  her,  which  had  led  her  to  cut  and 
paste  below  her  left  eye  a  small  speck  of  black  court- 
plaster,  in  order  to  emphasize  and  make  more  beautiful 
the  color  of  her  cheeks  and  hair.  Sorrow  for  him  some 
how  did  not  affect  or  modify  her  interest  in  herself.  She 
figured  that  she  must  always  be  very  beautiful  and  attrac 
tive  to  make  him  happy,  for  she  had  learned  that  he 
loved  beauty.  Repeated  hours  with  him  in  North  Tenth 
Street  had  taught  this,  and  she  wanted  to  keep  it  for  him 
as  long  as  she  could. 

"I  have  only  a  few  minutes  to  stay,  sweet,"  were  his 
first  words  after  he  had  shared  their  long  embrace.  "I 

435 


THE    FINANCIER 

am  terribly  rushed.     You  don't  know.     Has  anything 
new  developed  with  your  father?" 

"No.  I  only  saw  him  for  a  few  minutes  this  morning. 
He's  very  busy.  I  know  he  is  thinking  of  me,  though. 
I  saw  it  by  his  looks.  Oh,  poor  daddy!  But  never  mind 
that.  What  about  you?  You  haven't  really  failed,  have 
you?  I  heard  them  say  you  had." 

"Heard  who  say?" 

"Callum  and  Owen." 

"Not  failed,  no.  I've  assigned  temporarily  for  the 
benefit  of  my  creditors.  My  lawyer  is  drawing  up  the 
papers.  But  don't  let  that  worry  you,  pet,"  he  added, 
as  he  saw  a  widening  look  of  distress  in  her  eyes.  "I'll 
come  out  all  right.  Stocks  are  going  to  recover  shortly. 
I'm  going  to  assign  all  my  holdings  in  favor  of  my  largest 
creditors.  You  don't  understand  that,  Aileen;  but  you 
needn't  worry  about  it.  I'll  be  quite  all  right  again  in  a 
few  months.  Things  are  going  to  be  better  than  ever. 
I'll  go  right  on.  There  are  a  lot  of  things  in  connection 
with  it  all  that  I  ought  to  be  attending  to  right  now. 
So  there  is  nothing  new  at  your  house?" 

He  seemed  a  little  preoccupied  to  Aileen,  as  he  might 
well;  but  she  did  not  quite  see  why  he  should  neglect 
her  in  his  thoughts.  Still,  his  troubles  were  now  obvious 
ly  so  great  that  she  could  forgive  him  temporarily.  They 
had  little  altercations  at  times,  as  all  lovers  do;  but  she 
did  not  crave  one  now. 

"Oh,  sweet,  I'm  disturbed  about  you,"  she  replied, 
earnestly.  "Isn't  there  a  single  thing  I  can  do  to  help 
you?"  He  smiled  genially  but  sardonically  at  this.  "I 
know —  Oh,  women  are  so  helpless."  She  threw  back 
her  head  and  looked  away  wearily. 

"Baby,  it's  sweet  of  you  to  think  of  this,  but  it  can't 
be  done.  You  don't  understand  finance.  I  have  to 
go  it  alone.  There  isn't  a  thing  you  can  do  but  love 
me,  and  that  is  all  I  want  from  you.  It  is  a  good 
deal." 

436 


THE     FINANCIER 

He  tightened  his  arms  around  her,  and  she  took  his 
head  in  her  hands. 

"Oh,  I  do  that;  but  Frank — honey,  it  is  so  little!  If 
I  could  only  be  with  you!  If  I  could  only  share  in  some 
way!  I  know  you  are  in  trouble.  I  can  feel  it." 

He  shut  her  mouth  with  his. 

"There,  there,  pet,  don't  worry.  I'll  come  out  all 
right.  I  really  will,"  he  said,  for  almost  the  first  time 
in  his  life  emotionally  moved  by  her  keen  sympathy  and 
tenderness.  It  was  a  new  sensation.  "  It's  a  little  rough 
just  now,  but  I  will  be  all  right  later." 

He  could  not  talk  finance  to  her.  She  was  too  incapable 
of  understanding. 

"For  the  present  it  is  all  over  with  Nine-thirty-one,  I 
suppose,"  he  said,  referring  to  the  North  Tenth  Street 
domicile,  and  thinking  of  the  resources  which  its  contents 
offered.  His  day  of  any  such  liberal  provision  for  pro 
fane  love  was  temporarily  over.  Besides,  the  house  was, 
no  doubt,  watched.  "I'll  have  to  close  that  up  and  get 
a  new  address  shortly.  Meanwhile  we'd  better  say  here 
again  on  Saturday,  unless  it  rains;  and  if  it  does,  make  it 
Monday.  You  can't  come  over  to  the  house  very  well, 
either,  just  at  present."  He  was  thinking  of  her  father. 

Aileen  realized  the  danger  of  it  all. 

"No,"  she  replied,  "I  can't;  that's  so.  I  hadn't 
thought  of  that.  And  just  when  you  need  me  most. 
What  shall  we  do?" 

He  did  feel  a  special  craving  for  affection  just  now, 
when  everything  was  going  so  badly,  but  he  did  not  let 
it  master  him. 

"You  mustn't  fret.  Things  are  coming  out.  Just  be 
patient  now.  I'll  find  some  place  where  we  can  meet." 

They  looked  at  the  long,  stream-skirted  road,  where 
was  no  one,  and  listened  to  the  ripple  of  the  water  over 
the  stones.  There  were  birds  singing  in  the  autumn- 
tinted  foliage  overhead,  and  a  general  air  of  restfulness 
and  peace  here  centered  in  great  beauty.  The  thought 

437 


THE    FINANCIER 

came  to  him  how  little  his  tangle  of  affairs  seemed  to 
matter  in  the  general  scheme  of  things;  but  he  shut  it 
out.  He  was  too  practical,  too  efficient  to  think  of  any 
thing  save  of  untangling  a  tangle  and  making  much  of 
the  material  of  which  life  is  wOven.  He  squeezed  her 
hands;  but  he  was  restless,  and  she  could  see  it. 

"We  might  as  well  go,  then,"  she  observed;  and  he 
agreed  with  alacrity. 

"You'd  better  let  me  go  first,"  he  said;  and  giving 
her  a  farewell  kiss,  he  jumped  into  his  run-about.  For 
the  first  time  it  came  home  sharply  to  Aileen  how  much 
his  affairs  meant  to  him.  They  were  really  first,  and  love 
was  a  thing  apart — a  diversion.  It  hurt  her. 

"Still,  he  wouldn't  be  what  he  is  if  it  weren't  so,"  she 
thought;  "and  if  he  weren't  what  he  is  I  might  not  love 
him." 

She  watched  him  speeding  down  the  ochre-hued  road, 
wistfully  and  admiringly,  then  jumped  to  her  own  saddle 
and  was  off.  In  all  the  world  there  was  no  one  to  her 
like  Frank  Cowperwood.  She  went  to  her  room  and 
wrote  him,  pouring  out  her  heart  in  a  long,  comforting 
letter;  but  that  did  not  avail,  either.  She  wanted  to  be 
with  him. 

In  spite  of  his  lenient  attitude  toward  his  daughter, 
Butler  felt  an  increasing  tide  of  revengeful  anger  tow 
ard  Cowperwood.  The  old  man  was  of  that  peculiarly 
human  turn  which  loves  to  assist  when  its  sympathies 
and  interests  are  involved,  but  which  also  loves  to  hu 
miliate  when  its  sympathies  have  been  lacerated  or  its 
generosities  betrayed.  Butler  considered  that  he  had 
been  exceedingly  generous  to  Cowperwood  during  the 
eight  or  nine  years  in  which  he  had  known  him.  As  will 
be  remembered,  he  had  assisted  Cowperwood  to  get  a 
section  of  one  of  the  civil-war  loans,  which  had  netted 
him  twenty  thousand  dollars  in  his  early  banking  days; 
and  since  then  he  had  been  kind  to  him  in  other  directions, 
speculating  from  time  to  time  in  stocks  through  the  young 

43S 


THE    FINANCIER 

banker,  and  buying  blocks  of  street-railway  stock  in 
certain  struggling  or  slowly  developing  lines  which  he 
hoped  to  acquire.  The  hundred-thousand-dollar  loan 
which  he  had  with  Cowperwood  had  been  carried  at  six 
per  cent.,  when,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  it  would  have  brought 
a  much  higher  rate  of  interest  in  other  places.  Butler, 
after  having  called  his  loan  and  seeing  Cowperwood  fail 
the  next  day,  was  puzzled  as  to  what  else  he  could  do  to 
injure  his  one-time  friend  and  protege.  Ordinarily  he  was 
not  vindictive;  but  he  considered  that  Cowperwood  had 
surely  repaid  him  very  badly  for  all  he  had  done,  and  that 
his  further  continuance  in  political  and  financial  affairs 
in  Philadelphia  was  a  menace.  Whether  he,  Butler,  could 
do  anything  to  prevent  or  delay  him  in  his  future  progress, 
whether  he  could  hinder  his  resumption  of  business  or 
destroy  his  possibly  profitable  political  affiliations,  was 
another  matter.  The  one  thing  that  occurred  to  Butler 
at  this  time  as  having  great  significance  was  the  matter 
of  the  five  hundred  thousand  dollars  which  Cowperwood 
had  received  from  the  city  treasury,  and  which  was  in 
volved  with  the  success  of  the  Republican  party  at  the 
November  election.  His  talk  with  Mollenhauer  and 
Simpson  had  not  cleared  up  definitely  what  was  to  be 
done  about  this,  and  further  conferences  were  yet  to  come. 
Obviously  something  should  be  done.  He  wondered 
whether  Cowperwood  would  really  be  able  to  get  on  his 
feet  after  having  put  the  Republican  party  in  such  a 
desperate  position,  and  whether  he  ought  to  let  him. 
He  did  not  hesitate  to  take  thought  as  to  some  personal 
means  of  reprisal,  though  he  did  not  know  at  the  moment 
just  what  those  would  be.  One  thing  that  occurred  to 
him,  after  a  few  days,  was  that  he  might  buy  into  Cowper 
wood' s  affairs  (secretly,  of  course)  in  order  to  become  a 
creditor,  in  which  case  he  could  cause  him  a  great  deal  of 
trouble.  He  was  not  so  poor  a  financier  but  what  he  could 
see,  as  both  Mollenhauer  and  Simpson  had  seen,  that,  if 
Cowperwood  could  not  get  money  to  pay  his  debts  and 

439 


THE    FINANCIER 

could  not  get  his  creditors  to  agree  to  let  him  go  on  until 
such  time  as  the  values  of  his  stocks  had  recovered,  he 
would  have  to  part  with  all  his  holdings.  Butler  had 
sat  in  enough  creditors'  meetings  in  his  time  to  know 
how  easy  it  is  for  one  creditor,  by  standing  out  for  a 
hundred  cents  on  the  dollar,  or  "payment  in  full,"  as  it 
is  called,  to  prevent  a  resumption  even  when  all  the  other 
creditors  are  willing.  It  would  be  easy  to  buy  into  Cow- 
perwood's  affairs  now  through  some  disgruntled  creditor 
who  needed  cash,  and  so  become  a  factor  in  his  financial 
difficulties — one  of  the  judges  who  might  say  whether  he 
was  to  resume  or  not.  At  the  same  time  it  might  be  ad 
visable — in  fact,  it  was  very  tempting — to  unite  with 
Mollenhauer  and  Simpson  by  pooling  their  properties  so 
as  to  jointly  control  all  the  street-railway  interests  of  the 
city.  That  was  what  Owen  had  suggested  to  him;  and 
it  had  stuck  in  his  mind.  Some  such  union  of  street- 
railway  properties  had  been  vaguely  in  his  own  mind  all 
these  years,  only  ne  had  been  thinking  of  controlling 
these  interests  alone.  He  did  not  know  that  this  had 
been  Cowperwood's  ambitious  thought  also.  The  idea  of 
combination  was  just  beginning  to  manifest  itself  in  those 
days — in  so  far  as  American  affairs  were  concerned — and 
it  was  in  the  air.  It  was  occurring  to  other  people  in 
many  other  walks  of  life. 

It  is  interesting  to  see  how  readily  our  ambitions  and 
desires  for  advancement  combine  frequently  with  our 
outraged  sense  of  justice  and  our  craving  for  revenge. 
This  is  a  very  human  failing,  or,  let  us  say,  capability. 
It  was  decidedly  true  in  the  case  of  Butler.  The  old  man, 
brooding  over  the  injury  done  him  through  his  affection 
for  his  daughter,  was  actually  comforted  by  what  he 
thought  he  could  do  to  Cowperwood  in  return.  As  this 
avenue  of  reprisal  opened  to  him  his  eyes  fairly  gleamed 
in  their  dark,  fulgurous  way,  and  he  decided  to  make  use 
of  it.  He  also  thought  persistently  of  how  Cowperwood 
could  be  identified  with  the  punishment  that  would,  in  all 

440 


THE    FI  NANCIER 

probability,  eventually  have  to  be  meted  out  to  Stener. 
Butler  did  not  wish  to  injure  the  party;  but  if  it  were 
necessarily  to  be  injured  in  the  long  run,  Cowperwood 
might  as  well  be  made  to  suffer  for  his  share  in  the  trans 
action.  What  could  he  do  about  that?  Butler  asked  him 
self.  How  could  he  connect  Cowperwood  with  it?  A 
few  days  after  Cowperwood's  failure  he  decided  to  go 
around  to  the  city  hall  and  see  for  himself  what  the 
situation  was.  He  did  not  care  to.  talk  to  Stener  per 
sonally — Mollenhauer  was  handling  him — but  there  were 
others.  Mr.  David  Pettie,  for  instance — the  outgoing 
district  attorney — was  one  of  his  proteges — a  man  whom 
he  had  started  years  before  with  a  few  small  legal  cases. 
Pettie  would  know;  it  would  be  his  duty  to  find  out  all 
about  it.  Butler  strolled  down  there  the  very  afternoon 
the  idea  occurred  to  him,  and  was  closeted  with  Pettie 
for  three-quarters  of  an  hour.  At  the  end  of  that  time 
he  had  learned  all  of  the  details  in  regard  to  the  five- 
hundred-thousand-dollar  defalcation,  and  also  the  peculiar 
circumstances  attending  the  transfer  of  the  final  check 
for  sixty  thousand  dollars,  of  which  he  had  not  previously 
known. 

Mr.  David  Pettie  was  a  little  man  physically,  so  far 
as  height  was  concerned,  rather  stocky  of  body  and  broad 
of  shoulders,  whose  full,  fat  face  was  set  with  a  pair  of 
goggle  eyes,  over  which  were  placed  again  a  pair  of  large, 
gold-rimmed  glasses.  He  was  a  contentious  person  of 
considerable  force,  and  was  fairly  suited  to  his  peculiar 
duties  as  prosecutor,  though  not  very  good  as  an  organizer 
— a  faculty  which  his  office  required.  Beholden  to  But 
ler  for  favors  in  the  past,  he  was  expectant  of  additional 
ones  in  the  future,  and  anxious  to  serve  him  in  any  way 
that  he  might.  So  Butler  had  no  difficulty  in  finding  out 
anything  he  wished  to  know. 

"  What  is  this,  Mr.  Pettie,"  he  asked,  after  he  inquired 
about  some  little  legal  matter  in  connection  with  a  city 
contract,  which  he  pretended  had  brought  him  there, 

15  441 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

"  that  I  hear  about  Stener  and  his  broker?  Is  it  true  that 
he's  lost  a  lot  of  money  in  Third  Street,  as  they  say  he 
has?" 

Butler,  as  was  his  custom,  pretended  an  ignorance  as 
to  what  was  going  on,  when,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  he  knew 
nearly  all  about  it. 

"Oh,  that  is  a  bad  mess,  Mr.  Butler,"  replied  Pettie, 
respectfully,  and  with  every  desire  to  be  properly  com 
municative.  "Mr.  Mollenhauer's  secretary,  Mr.  Seng- 
stack,  was  in  here  yesterday  to  see  me  about  it.  It  looks 
as  'though  Mr.  Stener  was  short  all  of  five  or  six  hundred 
thousand  dollars,  if  not  more.  You  understand  how  it 
happened,  of  course?  Since  then  I  have  heard  there  is  a 
row  on  between  Mr.  Stener  and  Mr.  Cowperwood  about  a 
part  of  it — some  check  for  sixty  thousand  dollars,  which 
Stener  says  he  never  intended  to  give  him.  Stener  says 
he  ought  to  be  arrested  for  embezzlement,  though  I  don't 
suppose  there's  much  in  that.  They've  been  using  city 
money  together  on  this  plan  for  six  or  seven  years." 

At  this  remark  concerning  a  quarrel  over  a  sixty- 
thousand-dollar  check,  and  a  charge  of  embezzlement, 
Butler  pricked  up  his  ears. 

"You  don't  tell  me,"  he  said,  easily.  "Is  it  as  bad  as 
that?  Six  hundred  thousand!  They  must  have  been 
havin'  a  great  deal  of  fun  with  their  money.  Just  what 
was  this  check,  do  you  know?" 

Pettie  proceeded  to  explain  the  incident  of  Cowper- 
wood's  having  taken  the  sixty-thousand-dollar  check 
from  Stires,  allegedly  without  Stener's  consent,  and  his 
failure  to  deposit  in  the  sinking-fund  the  certificates 
which  this  money  was  supposed  to  represent.  An  or 
dinary  man  as  much  interested  as  Butler  was  in  this 
intelligence  would  have  straightened  up  and  manifested 
in  a  measure  what  he  felt.  Butler  only  looked  as  placid 
as  he  had  before. 

"Is  it  as  bad  as  that?"  he  repeated.  "You  don't 
tell  me!  I  suppose  young  Cowperwood  could  be  pun- 

442 


THE    FINANCIER 

ished  for  that  under  the  law.  What  is  the  penalty  for  a 
crime  like  that,  anyhow?" 

"Five  years  is  the  maximum,"  replied  Pettie,  briskly. 
"A  man  in  his  position  takes  an  awful  chance  doing  a 
thing  like  that.  This  will  make  it  pretty  bad  for  the 
party  if  it  comes  out  before  the  election,  I  suppose." 

"We'll  have  to  see  that  it  doesn't  come  out,  if  we  can 
help  it,  before  election,  anyhow,"  replied  Butler.  "After 
that  it  wouldn't  matter  so  much;  but  I  don't  see  that 
anything  very  much  can  be  done  for  this  fellow  Stener. 
He's  certainly  got  himself  in  a  bad  scrape." 

He  returned  to  the  subject  of  the  city  contract,  which 
he  had  made  it  appear  had  brought  him  there,  and  then 
left.  He  was  thinking  what  he  could  do  to  further  this 
embezzlement  charge  against  Cowperwood,  in  case  it 
proved  to  be  as  Pettie  said.  He  proposed  to  have  Owen 
go  to  the  Drovers'  and  Traders'  Bank  to  see  if  the  cer 
tificates  were  really  absent  from  the  sinking-fund,  and 
when  the  time  came,  as  it  would  in  a  very  few  hours,  no 
doubt,  when  he  and  Mollenhauer  and  Simpson  would 
again  confer,  he  would  recommend  what  he  thought  ought 
to  be  done.  It  might  be — certainly  was — advisable  to 
hush  this  whole  matter  up  until  after  election ;  but  beyond 
that  there  would  be  no  necessity.  Stener  might  be  con 
victed — it  would  really  be  essential  to  convict  him  if 
the  matter  came  to  the  ears  of  the  public,  for  looks'  sake, 
even  if  the  leaders  had  to  get  him  pardoned  afterward; 
and  if  he  were  convicted  there  was  no  reason  why  Cowper 
wood  should  not  be  also,  so  long  as  the  coming  election 
was  not  affected  by  it  one  way  or  the  other. 


CHAPTER  XL 

THE  necessity  of  a  final  conference  between  Butler, 
Mollenhauer,  and  Simpson  was  speedily  reached,  for 
this  situation  was  hourly  growing  more  serious.  Rumors 
were  floating  about  in  Third  Street  that  in  addition  to 
having  failed  for  so  large  an  amount  as  to  have  further 
unsettled  the  already  panicky  financial  situation  induced 
by  the  Chicago  fire,  Cowperwood  had  involved  the  city 
treasury  to  the  extent  of  five  hundred  thousand  dollars. 
The  question  was  how  was  the  matter  to  be  kept  quiet 
until  after  election,  which  was  still  three  weeks  away. 
Bankers  and  brokers  were  communicating  odd  rumors  to 
each  other  on  the  street-corners  and  in  their  private 
offices,  and  there  was  danger  that  it  would  come  to  the 
ears  of  that  very  uncomfortable  political  organization 
known  as  the  Citizens'  Municipal  Reform  Association,  of 
which  a  well-known  iron-manufacturer  of  great  probity 
and  moral  rectitude,  one  Skelton  C.  Wheat,  no  less,  who  for 
years  had  been  following  on  the  trail  of  the  dominant 
Republican  administration  in  a  vain  attempt  to  bring  it  to 
a  sense  of  some  of  its  political  iniquities,  was  president. 
On  the  day  following  Butler's  discovery  of  Cowper- 
wood's  very  suspicious  action  in  extracting  an  additional 
sixty  thousand  dollars  from  the  city  treasury  when  it 
was  understood  that  he  was  to  have  no  more,  a  mes 
senger  coming  from  Mr.  Simpson  to  Mr.  Butler  and  Mr. 
Mollenhauer  advised  that  they  come  together  for  a  final 
conference  on  the  city-treasurership  at  once.  Senator 
Simpson  had  learned  that  the  rumors  in  Third  Street 
were  becoming  very  thick  and  threatening,  and  the  news 
paper  editors  were  already  looking  for  information  on 

444 


THE    FINANCIER 

this  very  dangerous  topic.  As  a  consequence  the  two 
invited  leaders  journeyed  to  Senator  Simpson's  house 
at  four  in  the  afternoon,  and  were  closeted  with  him  there 
for  several  hours.  The  conference  this  time  was  in  the 
Senator's  library,  and  he  received  his  colleagues  with 
the  genial  air  of  one  who  has  much  to  gain  and  little  to 
lose.  There  were  whiskies,  wines,  and  cigars  on  the 
table;  and  while  Mollenhauer  and  Simpson  exchanged 
the  commonplaces  of  the  day  awaiting  the  arrival  of 
Butler,  they  lighted  cigars  and  kept  their  inmost  thoughts 
to  themselves. 

It  so  happened  that  upon  the  previous  afternoon,  at 
the  very  hour  when  Mr.  Butler  had  been  learning  from 
Mr.  Pettie  of  the  sixty-thousand-dollar-check  transaction, 
this  same  matter  had  been  brought  to  Mollenhauer 's 
attention  by  Stener  himself.  The  former  worthy,  on 
Stener's  frightened  arrival,  explaining  that,  in  spite  of  his 
positive  instructions,  Cowperwood,  by  a  subtle  trick  in 
connection  with  Albert  Stires,  had  managed  to  get  sixty 
thousand  dollars  more,  had  instantly  seen  how  he  could 
use  this  piece  of  information,  which  he  assumed  to  be 
private,  to  his  own  enrichment  alone,  and,  by  taking 
advantage  of  Cowperwood's  difficult  situation,  fleece  him 
out  of  his  street-railway  shares  without  letting  Butler 
or  Simpson  know  anything  about  it.  Mollenhauer's 
thought  at  this  time  was  that  if  Cowperwood  had  com 
mitted  embezzlement,  as  it  looked,  he  himself  would, 
providing  he  could  hush  up  all  conversation  about  the 
matter,  have  the  former  in  his  power.  He  could  send  for 
him,  once  the  matter  of  the  absence  of  the  certificates 
was  established,  and  say  to  him  in  so  many  words:  "Now 
you  clear  out  of  the  street-railway  business  or  you  go  to 
the  penitentiary.  I  do  not  want  to  be  unduly  harsh, 
but  you  will  have  to  part  with  your  holdings  to  me  for 
a  merely  nominal  consideration,  or  this  matter  will  be 
brought  to  the  attention  of  the  courts.  Do  as  I  say,  and 
I  will  do  all  I  can  to  assist  you." 

445 


THE    FINANCIER 

Mollenhauer  really  did  not  know  the  stuff  of  which 
Frank  A.  Cowperwood  was  made;  and,  anyhow,  his  game 
was  blocked,  as  he  was  soon  to  learn,  by  the  asinine  con 
versational  powers  of  Stener.  When  questioned  as  to 
whom  he  had  told,  he  had  to  admit,  to  Mollenhauer's  in 
tense  disgust  and  dissatisfaction,  that  he  had  already 
conferred  with  Strobik  and  Harmon,  who  had  been  in  his 
office,  and  that  he  could  not  say  whom  else  they  had  told. 
Mollenhauer  had  a  profound  contempt  for  the  city 
treasurer  and  his  situation — never  greater  than  at  this 
moment.  Although  he  suspected  that  the  plan  he  had 
in  mind  was  already  frustrated  beforehand,  he  never 
theless  preferred,  being  the  cautious  man  that  he  was, 
to  find  out  just  what  chance  he  had  of  putting  his  idea 
into  force.  Strobik  and  Harmon  might  not  have  told 
any  one  else  before  he  could  reach  them  and  seal  their 
lips  also.  He  did  not  know  that  both  these  gentlemen 
had  talked  to  Pettie,  who  was  their  very  good  friend,  and 
who  had  been  helping  them  in  the  matter  of  their  surety 
ship  trouble  with  Stener,  and  that  even  at  this  hour 
Pettie  was  telling  Butler.  So  Abner  Sengstack,  Mr. 
Mollenhauer's  faithful  secretary,  was  now  sent  for  and 
told  to  go  first  to  the  Drovers'  and  Traders'  Bank  and  learn 
if  the  certificates  were  really  in  the  sinking-fund,  as  Cow 
perwood  had  said — the  fact  that  the  latter  had  by  now 
closed  his  doors  would  give  great  significance  to  their 
absence — and  then,  such  being  the  case,  with  all  possible 
speed  to  find  and  caution  Strobik  and  Harmon.  He  re 
turned  to  say  that  the  sixty  thousand  dollars'  worth  of 
certificates  was  not  in  the  sinking-fund,  and  that,  although 
he  had  given  Strobik  and  Harmon  the  desired  warning, 
he  feared  that  some  damage  had  already  been  done,  as 
they  admitted  having  informed  Mr.  Pettie.  Mr.  Mollen 
hauer  decided  to  confer  with  that  official  also,  and  sent 
for  him,  only  to  find  that  it  was  too  late.  He  had  talked 
with  Mr.  Butler,  and  the  latter  knew.  Mollenhauer 
thereupon  decided  that  if  need  be  he  would  make  a  virtue 

446 


THE    FINANCIER 

of  this  necessity,  and  share  with  Butler  the  pleasure  of 
plucking  the  Cowperwood  goose.  It  was  essentially  a 
delicate  political  situation. 

Butler  was  not  long  in  arriving,  and  apologized  for  the 
delay. 

"It's  a  lively  life  I'm  leadin',  what  with  every  bank  in 
the  city  wantin'  to  know  how  their  loans  are  goin'  to  be 
taken  care  of,"  he  said,  taking  up  a  cigar  and  striking  a 
match. 

"It  does  look  a  little  threatening,"  said  Senator  Simp 
son,  smiling.  "Sit  down.  I  have  just  been  talking  with 
Avery  Stone,  of  Jay  Cooke  and  Company,  and  he  tells 
me  that  the  talk  in  Third  Street  about  Mr.  Stener's  con 
nection  with-  this  Cowperwood  failure  is  growing  very 
strong,  and  that  the  newspapers  are  bound  to  take  up 
the  matter  shortly,  unless  something  is  done  about  it. 
He  says  that  the  financial  reporters  of  the  Press  and  the 
Ledger  have  been  around  to  him  asking  him  for  informa 
tion;  and  I  am  sure  that  the  news  is  certain  to  reach  Mr. 
Wheat,  of  the  Citizens'  Reform  Association,  very  shortly. 
We  ought  to  decide  now,  gentlemen,  what  we  propose  to 
do.  One  thing,  I  am  sure,  is  to  eliminate  Mr.  Stener  from 
the  ticket  as  quietly  as  possible.  This  really  looks  to  me 
as  if  it  might  become  a  very  serious  issue,  and  we  ought 
to  be  doing  what  we  can  now  to  offset  its  effect  later." 

"There  is  one  thing  sure,"  continued  Senator  Simpson, 
after  a  time,  seeing  that  no  one  else  spoke,  "and  that  is, 
if  we  do  not  begin  a  prosecution  on  our  own  account 
within  a  reasonable  time,  some  one  else  is  apt  to ;  and  that 
would  put  rather  a  bad  face  on  the  matter.  My  own 
opinion  would  be  that  we  wait  until  it  is  very  plain  that 
prosecution  is  going  to  be  undertaken  by  some  one  else — 
possibly  the  Municipal  Reform  Association — but  that  we 
be  ready  to  step  in  and  act  in  such  a  way  as  to  make  it 
look  as  though  we  had  been  planning  to  do  it  all  the  time. 
The  thing  to  do  is  to  gain  time;  and  so  I  would  suggest 
that  it  be  made  as  difficult  as  possible  to  get  at  the  treas- 

447 


THE    FINANCIER 

urer's  books.  An  investigation  there,  if  it  begins  at  all 
— as  I  think  is  very  likely — should  be  very  slow  in  pro 
ducing  the  facts." 

The  Senator  was  not  at  all  for  mincing  words  with  his 
important  confreres,  when  it  came  to  vital  issues.  He 
preferred,  in  his  grandiloquent  way,  to  call  a  spade  a 
spade. 

"Now  that  sounds  like  very  good  sense  to  me,"  said 
Butler,  sinking  a  little  lower  in  his  chair  for  comfort's 
sake.  "The  boys  could  easily  make  that  investigation 
last  three  weeks,  I  should  think.  They're  slow  enough 
to  do  everything  else,  if  me  memory  doesn't  fail  me." 

"Yes;  that  isn't  a  bad  idea,"  said  Mollenhauer,  solemn 
ly,  blowing  a  ring  of  smoke. 

"We  ought  to  have  our  programme  worked  out  very 
carefully,"  continued  Senator  Simpson,  "so  that  if  we 
are  compelled  to  act  we  can  do  so  very  quickly.  I  be 
lieve  myself  that  this  thing  is  certain  to  come  to  an  issue 
within  a  week,  if  not  sooner,  and  we  have  no  time  to  lose. 
If  my  advice  were  followed  now,  I  should  have  the  mayor 
write  the  treasurer  a  letter  asking  for  information,  and 
the  treasurer  write  the  mayor  his  answer,  and  also  have 
the  mayor,  with  the  authority  of  the  common  council, 
suspend  the  treasurer  for  the  time  being — I  think  we  have 
the  authority  to  do  that — or,  at  least,  take  over  his  prin 
cipal  duties.  We  ought  to  have  these  letters  ready  to 
show  to  the  newspapers  at  once,  in  case  this  action  is 
forced  upon  us." 

"I  could  have  those  letters  prepared,  if  you  gentlemen 
have  no  objection,  and  have  my  secretary  show  them  to 
you,"  put  in  Mollenhauer,  quietly,  but  quickly. 

"Well,  that  strikes  me  as  sinsible,"  said  Butler,  easily. 
"It's  about  the  only  thing  we  can  do  under  the  circum 
stances,  unless  we  could  find  some  one  else  to  blame  it 
on,  and  I  have  a  suggestion  to  make  in  that  direction. 
Maybe  we're  not  as  helpless  as  we  might  be,  all  things 
considered." 

448 


THE    FINANCIER 

There  was  a  slight  gleam  of  triumph  in  his  eye  as  he 
said  this. 

The  idea  of  a  scapegoat  had  not  occurred  to  Senator 
Simpson  up  to  this  time,  knowing  nothing,  as  he  did,  of 
the  sixty-thousand-dollar-check  transaction.  He  had  not 
followed  the  local-treasury  dealings  very  closely,  nor  had 
he  talked  to  either  of  his  confreres  since  the  original  con 
ference  between  them.  Nor  had  he  imagined  up  to  now 
that  Cowperwood  was  acting  as  anything  more  than  a 
broker  for  Stener,  carrying  money  on  deposit  at  two  per 
cent,  or  more,  which  left  him  quite  free  and  beyond 
prosecution. 

"Just  what  do  you  mean?"  asked  the  Senator,  looking 
at  Butler  interestedly.  "There  haven't  been  any  out 
side  parties  mixed  up  with  this,  have  there?" 

"No-o.  I  wouldn't  call  him  an  outside  party,  exact 
ly.  It's  Cowperwood  himself  I'm  thinkin'  of.  There's 
somethin'  that  has  come  up  since  I  saw  you  gentlemen 
last  that  makes  me  think  that  perhaps  that  young  man 
isn't  as  innocent  as  he  might  be.  It  looks  to  me  as  though 
he  was  the  ringleader  in  this  business,  as  though  he  had 
been  leadin'  Stener  on  against  his  will.  I've  been  lookin* 
into  the  matter  on  me  own  account,  and  as  far  as  I  can 
make  out  this  man  Stener  isn't  as  much  to  blame  as  I 
thought.  From  all  I  can  learn,  Cowperwood 's  been 
threatenin'  Stener  with  one  thing  and  another  if  he  didn't 
give  him  more  money,  and  only  the  other  day  he  got  a 
big  sum  on  false  pretinses,  which  might  make  him  aqually 
guilty  with  Stener.  There's  sixty  thousand  dollars  of 
city  loan  certificates  that  has  been  paid  for  that  aren't 
in  the  sinkin'-fund.  I  don't  see  that  we  need  to  have  any 
particular  consideration  for  him." 

The  old  man  had  shot  his  first  arrow,  and  he  felt  con 
siderably  relieved.  He  looked  before  him  with  a  steady 
gleam  in  his  eye,  and  both  the  Senator  and  Mollenhauer 
were  surprised  at  his  change  of  front.  At  their  last  meet 
ing  he  had  appeared  rather  friendly  to  the  young  banker, 

449 


THE    FINANCIER 

and  this  recent  discovery  was  no  occasion  for  any  vicious 
attitude  on  his  part.  Mollenhauer  in  particular  was  sur 
prised,  for  he  had  been  counting  on  Butler's  friendship  for 
Cowperwood  as  a  means  of  interesting  the  contractor 
to  take  over  Cowperwood's  holdings  by  some  hocus-pocus 
which  would  save  the  banker  from  prosecution,  leave 
the  city  nothing,  and  themselves  everything. 

"Um-m,  you  don't  tell  me!"  observed  Senator  Simp 
son,  thoughtfully,  stroking  his  mouth  with  his  pale  hand. 

"Yes,  I  can  confirm  that,"  said  Mollenhauer,  quietly, 
seeing  his  own  little  private  plan  of  browbeating  Cowper 
wood  out  of  his  street-railway  shares  going  glimmering. 
"I  had  a  talk  with  Mr.  Stener  the  other  day  about  this 
very  matter,  and  he  told  me  that  Mr.  Cowperwood  had 
been  trying  to  force  him  to  give  him  three  hundred 
thousand  dollars  more,  and  that  when  he  refused  Cow 
perwood  managed  to  get  sixty  thousand  dollars  further 
without  his  knowledge  or  consent." 

"How  could  he  do  that?"  asked  Senator  Simpson,  in 
credulously.  Mollenhauer  explained  the  transaction. 

"Oh,"  said  the  Senator,  when  Mollenhauer  had  finished, 
"that  indicates  a  rather  sharp  person,  doesn't  it?  And 
the  certificates  are  not  in  the  sinking-fund,  eh?" 

"They're  not,"  chimed  in  Butler,  with  considerable 
enthusiasm. 

"Well,  I  must  say,"  said  Simpson,  rather  relieved  in 
his  manner,  "this  looks  like  a  rather  good  thing  to  me. 
We  need  something  like  this.  I  see  no  reason  under  the 
circumstances  for  trying  to  protect  Mr.  Cowperwood. 
We  might  as  well  try  to  make  a  point  of  that,  if  we  have 
to.  The  newspapers  might  just  as  well  talk  loud  about 
that  as  anything  else.  They  are  bound  to  talk;  and  if  we 
give  them  the  right  angle,  I  think  that  the  election  might 
well  come  and  go  before  the  matter  could  be  reasonably 
cleared  up,  even  though  Mr.  Wheat  does  interfere.  I 
will  be  glad  to  undertake  to  see  what  can  be  done  with  the 
papers." 

45° 


THE    FI  NANCI  ER 

"Well,  that  bein'  the  case,"  said  Butler,  "I  don't  see 
that  there's  so  much  more  we  can  do  now;  but  I  do 
think  it  will  be  a  mistake  if  Cowperwood  isn't  punished 
with  the  other  one.  He's  aqually  guilty  with  Stener, 
if  not  more  so,  and  I  for  one  want  to  see  him  get  what 
he  deserves.  He  belongs  in  the  penitentiary,  and  that's 
where  he'll  go  if  I  have  my  say." 

Both  Mollenhauer  and  Simpson  turned  a  reserved  and 
inquiring  eye  on  their  usually  genial  associate.  What 
could  be  the  reason  for  his  sudden  determination  to  have 
Cowperwood  punished?  Cowperwood,  as  Mollenhauer 
and  Simpson  saw  it,  and  as  Butler  would  ordinarily  have 
seen  it,  was  well  within  his  human,  if  not  his  strictly  legal 
rights.  They  did  not  blame  him  half  as  much  for  trying 
to  do  what  he  had  done  as  they  blamed  Stener  for  letting 
him  do  it.  But,  since  Butler  felt  as  he  did,  and  there  was 
an  actual  technical  crime  here,  they  were  perfectly  willing 
that  the  party  should  have  the  advantage  of  it,  even  if 
Cowperwood  went  to  the  penitentiary.  It  was  not  such 
a  nice  thing  for  powerful  political  gentlemen  to  be  doing — 
jumping  on  a  man  who  was  already  financially  down  and 
in  no  position  to  help  himself — but  party  and  personal 
self-interest  were  much  stronger  here  than  the  ethical  and 
social  privileges  of  any  individual.  Cowperwood  was  a 
scapegoat,  self-made  to  their  hand,  and  it  would  be  folly 
to  ignore  him  in  case  they  needed  him  in  that  capacity. 

"You  may  be  right,"  said  Senator  Simpson,  cautiously. 
"You  might  have  those  letters  prepared,  Henry;  and  if 
we  have  to  bring  any  action  at  all  against  anybody  before 
election,  it  would,  perhaps,  be  advisable  to  bring  it  against 
Mr.  Cowperwood.  Include  Mr.  Stener  if  you  have  to. 
I  leave  it  to  you  two,  as  I  am  compelled  to  start  for  Pitts- 
burg  next  Friday;  but  I  know  you  will  not  overlook  any 
point." 

The  Senator  arose.  His  time  was  always  valuable. 
Mollenhauer,  having  been  obliged  to  abandon  his  private 
designs  upon  Cowperwood 's  holdings,  had  been  intending 

451 


THE    FINANCIER 

to  bring  up  the  matter  of  the  joint  control  of  all  the  local 
street-railway  properties,  but  decided  to  let  it  rest.  The 
continued  panicky  state  of  the  market  was  bringing  out 
various  holdings  which  he  was  doing  his  best  to  acquire, 
and  the  more  he  had  in  his  possession  at  some  crucial 
time  when  they  should  talk  over  any  plan  of  uniting,  the 
better  would  be  his  personal  position.  The  matter  could 
well  rest.  Butler  was  highly  gratified  by  what  he  had 
accomplished.  He  had  succeeded  in  putting  the  trium 
virate  on  record  against  Cowperwood  as  the  first  victim, 
in  case  of  any  public  disturbance  or  demonstration  against 
the  party.  All  that  was  now  necessary  was  for  that 
disturbance  to  manifest  itself;  and,  from  what  he  could 
see  of  local  conditions,  it  was  not  far  off.  There  was 
now  the  matter  of  Cowperwood 's  disgruntled  creditors 
to  look  into;  and  if  by  buying  in  these  he  should  succeed 
in  preventing  the  financier  from  resuming  business,  he 
would  have  him  in  a  very  precarious  condition  indeed. 
It  was  a  sad  day  for  Cowperwood,  Butler  thought — the 
day  he  had  first  tried  to  lead  Aileen  astray — and  the  time 
was  not  far  off  when  he  could  prove  it  to  him. 


CHAPTER  XLI 

IN  the  meanwhile  the  affairs  of  Frank  Algernon  Cowper- 
wood  had  not  been  improving.  Since  the  day  when  he 
had  first  talked  over  the  matter  of  his  city-loan  dilemma 
with  Harper  Steger,  his  lawyer,  several  things  had  trans 
pired  which  made  him  reasonably  certain  that  the  poli 
ticians  would  try  to  make  a  scapegoat  of  him,  and  that 
shortly.  For  one  thing,  Albert  Stires  had  called  only  a  few 
days  after  Cowperwood  had  closed  his  doors  and  imparted 
a  significant  piece  of  information.  Albert  was  still  connect 
ed  with  the  city  treasury,  as  was  Stener,  and  engaged  with 
Secretary  Sengstack  and  another  personal  appointee  of 
Mollenhauer's  in  going  over  the  treasurer's  books  and 
explaining  their  financial  significance.  Albert  had  come 
to  Cowperwood  primarily  to  get  additional  advice  in  re 
gard  to  the  sixty-thousand-dollar  check  and  his  personal 
connection  with  it;  for  Stener,  after  Albert  had  failed 
to  bring  back  the  check  from  Cowperwood,  had  threat 
ened,  as  Stires  had  already  reported  to  Cowperwood 
on  the  day  of  the  latter's  failure,  to  have  his  chief  clerk 
prosecuted,  saying  that  he  was  responsible  for  the  loss 
of  the  money,  and  that  his  bondsmen  could  be  held  re 
sponsible.  If  Albert's  bondsmen  were  held,  that  would 
simply  mean  that  they  in  turn  would  attach  his  prop 
erty  to  satisfy  their  loss,  and  probably  have  him 
punished  in  the  bargain.  On  this  second  call  from  Stires, 
Cowperwood  had  merely  laughed  good-naturedly  at  their 
threat,  and  assured  Albert  that  there  was  nothing  in  it. 
"Albert,"  he  had  said,  smilingly,  "I  tell  you  positively 
there's  nothing  in  it.  You're  not  responsible  for  deliver 
ing  that  check  to  me,  and  they  wouldn't  think  of  attach- 

453 


THE    FINANCIER 

ing  your  property,  or  making  any  move  whatsoever,  if 
you  openly  defied  them.  I'll  tell  you  what  you  do,  now. 
Go  and  consult  my  lawyer,  Mr.  Steger.  It  won't  cost 
you  a  cent,  and  he'll  tell  you  exactly  what  to  do.  If  any 
body  makes  a  move  he  will  simply  write  them  a  letter  of 
some  kind,  and  that  will  be  the  end  of  it.  Now  go  on  back, 
and  don't  worry  any  more  about  it.  I  am  sorry  this 
move  of  mine  has  caused  you  so  much  trouble;  but  it's 
a  hundred  to  one  you  couldn't  have  kept  your  place  with 
a  new  city  treasurer,  anyhow,  seeing  how  things  are;  and 
if  I  see  any  place  where  you  can  possibly  fit  in  I'll  let 
you  know." 

Albert  had  been  properly  grateful,  and  as  a  consequence 
he  had  told  Cowperwood  of  a  little  scene  which  had  trans 
pired,  not  in  his  presence,  but  in  the  presence  of  a  fellow- 
employee,  Robert  Wotherspoon,  a  henchman  of  Strobik's; 
which  scene,  repeated  by  Wotherspoon,  was  a  mere  shadow 
of  something  else  much  more  important.  Wotherspoon, 
it  appears,  had  been  in  the  mayor's  office  the  day  before, 
when  there  had  been  a  conference  between  Strobik,  Har 
mon,  and  the  mayor  in  regard  to  Stener;  and  these  three 
underlings  were  commenting  on  what  "the  big  three," 
as  Mollenhauer,  Butler,  and  Simpson  were  known,  were 
likely  to  do.  According  to  Wotherspoon,  Harmon  had 
said  to  Strobik  and  Borchardt  that  Mollenhauer  had  said 
to  Butler,  in  some  conference  which  had  been  reported 
to  Harmon:  "The  party's  got  to  have  somebody  else 
besides  Stener  to  prosecute."  And  Butler  had  replied: 
"What's  the  matter  with  this  man  Cowperwood?  Can't 
we  fix  this  on  him  in  some  way?  He's  as  guilty  as  the 
other  fellow."  "And,"  said  Wotherspoon  to  Stires, 
"Strobik  said,  'They've  got  that  sixty-thousand-dollar 
check  on  him,  and  they're  going  to  send  him  up.'" 

This  alleged  conversation  between  Butler,  Mollen 
hauer,  and  Simpson  had  no  relation  to  the  actual  one  which 
had  occurred  at  Senator  Simpson's  house.  It  was  a  freak 
product  of  the  imagination  of  those  who  instinctively  felt 

454 


THE    FINANCIER 

what  ought  to,  or  at  least  might,  happen.  Harmon  did 
not  know  that  Butler  and  Mollenhauer  and  Simpson  had 
conferred  about  anything ;  he  had  merely  seen  Butler  com 
ing  out  of  District- Attorney  Pettie's  office  and  Sengstack 
entering  Stener's.  That  was  enough.  The  rest  might  be 
looked  upon  as  a  tribute  to  his  constructive  imagina 
tion.  Nevertheless,  it  was  important  enough  to  Cowper- 
wood. 

"I  thought  you'd  like  to  know  about  this,  Mr.  Cow 
perwood,"  had  said  Stires,  who,  in  spite  of  the  former's 
treatment  of  him,  bore  him  no  ill-will.  Outside  of  that 
particular  incident  Cowperwood  had  always  been  uni 
formly  courteous  to  him  and  considerate.  "If  they're 
going  to  do  anything,  it's  better  you  should  know  about 
it  beforehand.  I  thought  you  might  want  to  do  some 
thing  yourself.  You've  been  very  nice  to  me  all  along, 
Mr.  Cowperwood,  and  I  appreciate  it." 

"Oh,  don't  mention  it,  Albert,"  Cowperwood  had  re 
plied,  cheerfully,  concealing  the  real  impression  this  in 
telligence  made  on  him.  "I  certainly  am  much  obliged 
to  you,  and  it  will  be  useful  to  me.  I  thought  they  might 
be  doing  something  of  that  sort.  But  you  go  and  see 
Mr.  Steger  now,  and  don't  worry  about  me.  I'll  be  all 
right." 

Albert  departed,  and  then  Cowperwood's  brow  clouded. 
So  this  was  the  first  evidence  of  Butler's  or  Mollenhauer 's 
or  Simpson's  ill-will — very  likely  Butler's. 

Another  thing,  brought  to  Cowperwood's  attention 
shortly  after  the  call  from  Stires,  by  a  letter  from  Aileen, 
was  a  conversation  which  had  taken  place  at  the  Butler 
dinner-table  one  evening  when  Butler,  the  elder,  was  not 
at  home.  It  was  one  of  those  commonplace  little  talks 
which  so  constantly  take  place  in  connection  with  public 
events  in  every  family — based,  in  this  instance,  on  the 
public  event  of  Cowperwood's  failure.  (The  picturesque 
details  Aileen  did  not  relate.)  Callum  had  come  in  fresh 
from  Third  Street,  in  the  neighborhood  of  which  his 

455 


THE    FINANCIER 

father's  offices  were,  and  where  he  continually  labored 
gathering  the  news  of  the  day  from  one  person  and  an 
other.  On  this  day  he  had  been  talking  with  some  one 
who  knew  something  of  the  treasury  defalcation,  and  also 
of  Cowperwood's  final  mistake  in  extracting  the  sixty- 
thousand-dollar  check,  which  since  the  recent  conference 
of  the  great  triumvirate  was  being  rumored. 

"Well,"  said  Callum,  apropos  of  a  guarded  hint  in  the 
morning  Press  concerning  the  need  of  a  sounder  public 
morality,  to  which  Owen  laughingly  referred,  "there's 
no  doubt  that  fellow's  one  shifty  person,  all  right.  He's 
got  this  finance  business  going  around  like  a  pin  wheel. 
Bob  Sibert,  over  in  the  county  clerk's  office,  was  telling 
me  that  he  got  a  last  check  out  of  Stener  for  sixty  thou 
sand  dollars  by  some  trick  or  other,  and  that  they're 
going  to  send  him  up  for  it.  I  didn't  think  he'd  do  that. 
You  didn't  hear  anything  about  that,  did  you,  Owen?" 

Aileen,  at  the  mention  of  Cowperwood's  name,  and  the 
opening  attack  by  Callum,  had  pricked  up  her  ears  and 
flared  up  dangerously,  seeing  that  her  father  was  not 
present;  but  when  Callum  added  the  data  about  the 
sixty-thousand-dollar  check  she  calmed  down  again  and 
paled  a  little.  She  was  terribly  afraid  they  would  do 
something  to  Cowperwood.  It  was  on  her  tongue  to 
ask  since  when  Cowperwood  had  become  so  shifty  in 
Callum's  eyes,  seeing  that  he  had  gone  to  Cowperwood's 
house  gaily  enough  in  times  past. 

"Yes,  I  heard  a  little  something  about  it,"  replied 
Owen,  guardedly.  He  knew  all  about  it,  for  his  father 
had  confided  the  matter  to  him  as  quickly  as  he  had 
heard  it;  but,  since  Butler  had  asked  him  to  say  nothing 
of  it  for  the  time  being,  he  had  not  done  so.  Since  it  was 
obviously  getting  around  now,  though,  he  did  not  mind. 
Butler  had  told  him  nothing  of  Aileen,  of  course.  "I'm 
sorry  that  fellow's  turned  out  so  badly.  He's  made  a  mis 
take  if  he's  done  that.  They'll  get  him  yet,  sure." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  'get  him  yet,'  Owen?"  put  in 

456 


THE    FINANCIER 

Norah,  who  was  quite  a  young  lady  now,  with  a  very 
definite  leaning  toward  a  certain  eligible  young  gentle 
man,  and  who  was  certain  to  be  married  within  the  next 
year.  "You  don't  mean  they'll  send  him  to  the  peniten 
tiary,  do  you?" 

"Something  like  that,  I'm  afraid,  Sis,"  he  replied. 
"He's  got  himself  in  a  very  bad  hole  through  this  Stener 
business." 

Aileen's  heart  twitched  involuntarily,  and  hurt  her. 
She  could  not  think  of  her  Frank  having  got  himself  in 
such  a  desperate  situation.  The  penitentiary!  Good 
heavens!  Her  appetite  deserted  her,  and  she  shortly 
arose  and  left  the  table,  giving  as  an  excuse  the  lie  that 
she  had  had  too  much  lunch.  Her  dear  lover,  she  thought, 
once  she  was  in  her  room — her  beloved  Frank!  Could 
anything  like  this  really  happen  to  him?  She  ran  cold. 
She  wrote  him  a  letter  at  once,  and  told  him  all  she  had 
heard,  which  made  him  set  his  even  teeth  in  two  gleaming 
rows.  He  would  have  to  do  something  about  this,  he 
thought — see  Mollenhauer  or  Simpson,  or  both,  and  make 
some  offer  to  the  city.  He  could  not  promise  them  money 
for  the  present — only  notes;  but  they  might  take  that. 
Surely  they  could  not  be  intending  to  make  a  scapegoat 
out  of  him  over  such  a  trivial  and  uncertain  matter  as 
this  check  transaction.  It  was  too  uncertain,  too  vague, 
from  a  legal  point  of  view.  It  was  too  complicated  with 
the  history  of  his  transactions  with  Stener.  Still,  they 
might.  He  must  see  Mollenhauer.  A  public  storm  might 
break  loose  at  any  hour  now,  even  though  all  the  politi 
cians,  Butler  included,  might  wish  to  have  the  matter 
hushed  up  until  after  election,  as  he  knew  they  did. 

This  matter  of  seeing  Mollenhauer  and  Simpson,  once 
Cowperwood  had  the  idea,  was  gone  about  with  his  cus 
tomary  energy ;  but  it  resulted  in  nothing.'  Simpson  was 
out  of  the  city  for  a  period  of  ten  days;  and  Mollenhauer, 
having  in  mind  the  suggestion  made  by  Butler,  and  con 
firmed  by  Simpson,  in  regard  to  utilizing  Cowperwood's 

457 


THE    FINANCIER 

misdeed  for  the  benefit  of  the  party,  and  knowing  what 
wide  circulation  had  been  given  in  the  last  few  days  to  the 
report  of  Cowperwood's  criminal  involvement  with  Stener, 
had  very  little  hope  to  offer.  (Since  the  conference  be 
tween  Butler,  Mollenhauer,  and  Simpson,  the  smaller 
politicians,  taking  their  cue  from  the  overlords,  had  been 
industriously  spreading  the  story  of  the  sixty-thousand- 
dollar  check,  and  insisting  that  the  burden  of  guilt  for  the 
treasury  defalcation  lay  on  the  banker.)  The  moment 
Mollenhauer  laid  eyes  on  Cowperwood  he  realized,  how 
ever,  that  he  had  a  young  but  powerful  personality  to  deal 
with,  and  that  he  could  not  use  the  terrors  of  his  political 
power  on  him  any  more  than  he  could  on  any  other  man 
as  powerful  as  himself.  Cowperwood  gave  no  evidence 
of  fright.  He  merely  "stated,  in  his  bland  way,  that  he 
had  been  in  the  habit  of  borrowing  money  from  the  city 
treasury  at  a  low  rate  of  interest,  and  that  this  panic 
had  involved  him  so  that  he  could  not  possibly  return 
it  at  present. 

"I  have  heard  rumors,  Mr.  Mollenhauer,"  he  said, 
"to  the  effect  that  some  charge  was  to  be  brought  against 
me  as  a  partner  with  Mr.  Stener  in  this  matter;  but  I 
am  hoping  that  the  city  will  not  do  that,  and  I  thought 
I  might  enlist  your  influence  to  prevent  it.  My  affairs 
are  not  in  a  bad  way  at  all,  if  I  had  a  little  time  to  arrange 
matters.  I  am  making  all  of  my  creditors  an  offer  of 
fifty  cents  on  the  dollar  now,  and  giving  notes  at  one,  two, 
and  three  years;  but  in  this  matter  of  the  city  treasury 
loans,  if  I  could  come  to  terms,  I  would  be  glad  to  make 
it  a  hundred  cents — only  I  would  want  a  little  more  time. 
Stocks  are  bound  to  recover,  as  you  know,  and,  barring 
my  losses  at  this  time,  I  will  be  all  right.  I  realize  that 
the  matter  has^gone  pretty  far  already.  The  newspapers 
are  apt  to  start  talking  at  any  time.  But  if  I  could  be 
kept  out  of  the  general  proceedings  as  much  as  pos 
sible,  my  standing  would  not  be  injured,  and  I  would 
have  a  better  chance  of  getting  on  my  feet.  It  would 

458 


THE    FINANCIER 

be  better  for  the  city,  for  then  I  could  certainly  pay 
what  I  owe  it." 

Mollenhauer  looked  at  this  young  financial  David  with 
an  interested  eye.  If  he  could  have  seen  a  way  to  accept 
this  proposition  of  Cowperwood's,  so  that  the  money 
offered  would  have  been  eventually  payable  to  him,  and 
if  Cowperwood  had  had  any  reasonable  prospect  of  get 
ting  on  his  feet  soon,  he  would  have  considered  carefully 
what  he  had  to  say.  For  then  Cowperwood  could  have 
assigned  his  recovered  property  to  him.  As  it  was,  there 
was  small  likelihood  of  this  situation  ever  being  straight 
ened  out.  The  Citizens'  Municipal  Reform  Association, 
once  it  came  to  their  ears,  as  it  was  certain  to  do,  would 
unquestionably  follow  it  closely  to  the  end — particularly 
the  eventual  disposition  of  this  five  hundred  thousand. 

"The  trouble  with  this  situation,  Mr.  Cowperwood," 
he  said,  very  blandly,  "is  that  it  has  gone  so  far  that  it 
is  practically  out  of  my  hands.  I  really  have  very  little 
to  do  with  it.  I  don't  suppose,  though,  really,  it  is  this 
matter  of  the  five-hundred-thousand-dollar  loan  that  is 
worrying  you  so  much,  as  it  is  this  other  matter  of  the 
sixty-thousand-dollar  check  you  received  the  other  day. 
Mr.  Stener  insists  that  you  secured  that  illegally,  and  he 
is  very  much  wrought  up  about  it.  The  mayor  and  the 
other  city  officials  know  of  it  now,  and  they  may  force 
some  action  of  some  kind.  I  don't  know." 

Mollenhauer  was  obviously  not  frank  in  his  attitude — 
a  little  bit  evasive  in  his  sly  reference  to  his  official  tool, 
the  mayor;  and  Cowperwood  saw  it.  It  irritated  him 
greatly.  It  portended  subtle  opposition;  but  he  was 
tactful  enough  to  be  quite  suave  and  respectful. 

"I  did  get  a  check  for  sixty  thousand  dollars,  that's 
true,"  he  replied,  with  apparent  frankness,  "the  day  be 
fore  I  assigned.  It  was  for  certificates  I  had  purchased, 
however,  on  Mr.  Stener's  order,  and  was  due  me.  I 
.needed  the  money,  and  asked  for  it.  I  don't  see  that 
there  is  anything  illegal  in  that." 

459 


THE    FINANCIER 

"Not  if  the  transaction  was  completed  in  all  its  de 
tails,"  replied  Mr.  Mollenhauer,  blandly.  "As  I  under 
stand  it,  the  certificates  were  bought  for  the  sinking- 
fund,  and  they  are  not  there.  How  do  you  explain 
that?" 

"An  oversight,  merely,"  replied  Cowperwood,  inno 
cently,  and  quite  as  blandly  as  Mollenhauer.  "They 
would  have  been  there  if  I  had  not  been  compelled  to 
assign  so  unexpectedly.  It  was  not  possible  for  me  to 
attend  to  everything  in  person.  It  has  not  been  our  cus 
tom  to  deposit  them  at  once.  Mr.  Stener  will  tell  you 
that,  if  you  ask  him." 

"You  don't  say,"  replied  Mollenhauer.  "He  did  not 
give  me  that  impression.  However,  they  are  not  there, 
and  I  believe  that  that  makes  some  difference  legally. 
But  I'm  merely  commenting  on  it.  I  have  no  interest 
in  the  matter  one  way  or  the  other,  more  than  that  of  any 
other  good  Republican,  I  fancy.  I  don't  see  exactly  what 
I  can  do  for  you.  What  did  you  think  I  could  do?" 

"I  don't  believe  you  can  do  anything  for  me,  Mr. 
Mollenhauer,"  replied  Cowperwood,  a  little  tartly,  "un 
less  you  are  willing  to  deal  quite  frankly  with  me.  I  am 
not  a  beginner  in  politics  in  Philadelphia.  I  know  some 
thing  about  the  powers  in  command.  I  thought  (if  you 
want  to  hear  me)  that  you  could  stop  any  plan  to  prose 
cute  me  in  this  matter,  and  give  me  time  to  get  on  my 
feet  again.  I  am  not  any  more  criminally  responsible  for 
that  sixty  thousand  dollars  than  I  am  for  the  five  hundred 
thousand  dollars  that  I  had  as  loan  before  it — not  as  much 
so.  I  did  not  create  this  panic.  I  did  not  set  Chicago 
on  fire.  Mr.  Stener  and  his  friends  have  been  reaping 
some  profit  out  of  dealing  with  me.  I  certainly  was  en 
titled  to  make  some  effort  to  save  myself  after  all  these 
years  of  service,  and  I  can't  understand  why  I  should  not 
receive  some  courtesy  at  the  hands  of  the  present  city 
administration,  after  I  have  been  so  useful  to  it.  I  cer 
tainly  have  kept  city  loan  at  par;  and  as  for  Mr.  Stener's 

460 


THE    FI  NANCI  ER 

money,  he  has  never  wanted  for  his  interest  on  that,  and 
more  than  his  interest." 

"Quite  so,"  replied  Mollenhauer,  looking  Cowperwood 
in  the  eye  steadily  and  estimating  the  force  and  accuracy 
of  the  man  at  their  real  value.  "I  understand  exactly 
how  it  has  all  come  about,  Mr.  Cowperwood.  No  doubt 
Mr.  Stener  owes  you  a  debt  of  gratitude,  as  does  the  re 
mainder  of  the  city  administration.  I'm  not  saying  what 
the  city  administration  ought  or  ought  not  do.  All  I 
know  is  that  you  have  put  yourself  in  a  dangerous  situa 
tion,  and  that  public  sentiment  in  some  quarters  is  al 
ready  very  strong  against  you.  The  Republican,  party 
is  in  a  very  bad  position,  so  far  as  this  election  is  con 
cerned.  In  a  way,  however  innocently,  you  have  helped 
to  put  it  there,  Mr.  Cowperwood.  I  sympathize  with  you 
greatly;  but  I  do  not  know  exactly  what  I  can  do.  I 
am  only  one  of  those  who  have  a  slight  say  in  the  affairs 
of  Philadelphia — not  all.  You  had  better  see  some  of 
the  others — Mr.  Butler  and  Mr.  Simpson,  for  instance." 

Mollenhauer  expected  that  Cowperwood  would  make 
some  offer  of  his  own  holdings,  but  he  did  not.  Instead, 
at  the  mention  of  the  name  Butler,  and  that  too  in 
connection  with  this  very  aloof  and  equivocal  attitude  on 
the  part  of  Mollenhauer,  Cowperwood  saw  how  futile 
his  appeal  was.  He  realized  that,  with  Butler  opposing 
strongly,  Mollenhauer  would  do  nothing,  even  if  he  could 
— would  not  try  it. 

"I'm  very  much  obliged  to  you,  Mr.  Mollenhauer," 
he  said,  in  the  end,  "for  the  courtesy  of  this  interview. 
I  believe  you  would  help  me  if  you  could.  I  shall  just 
have  to  fight  it  out  the  best  way  I  can.  Good  day." 

Cowperwood  bowed  himself  out.  He  saw  clearly  how 
hopeless  his  quest  was.  Butler  and  the  party  interests 
and  the  public  were,  or  shortly  would  be,  allied  against 
him.  What  could  he  do?  Fighting  bankruptcy  suits 
was  about  all  that  was  left  for  him  to  do,  and  that  gave 
no  evidence  of  a  fortunate  outcome  in  the  long  run, 

461 


CHAPTER  XLII 

IN  the  meanwhile  public  rumor  had  been  growing,  and 
the  matter  of  defalcation  had  finally  reached  the  ear 
of  that  very  estimable  citizen,  Mr.  Skelton  C.  Wheat,  the 
president  of  the  Citizens'  Municipal  Reform  Association, 
who  had  long  been  wondering  whether  just  such  a  situa 
tion  as  this  would  not  come  about  in  connection  with 
the  city  treasury. 

His  mind,  thereupon,  offered  that  singular  paradox  so 
frequently  characteristic  of  the  human  thought  organ 
— namely,  the  open  question  whether  he  was  more  dis 
gusted  with  this  evidence  of  public  misconduct  in  office 
than  he  was  pleased  at  finding  that  it  was  ready  to  his 
hand  to  reprimand.  The  occasion  was  such  an  excellent 
one,  too — the  eve  of  an  important  municipal  and  State 
election.  Nevertheless,  it  was  a  serious  charge  to  make 
against  any  one,  the  sum  in  question  was  so  imposingly 
large;  and  the  rumors  involved  Cowperwood,  who  was  a 
private  citizen  of  unstained  record.  Mr.  Wheat  was  not 
so  anxious  to  proceed  but  what  he  wished  also  to  exercise 
due  caution.  And  so  he  delayed  for  a  few  days-  before 
doing  anything,  collecting  data.  On  the  evening  of  Octo 
ber  20,  1871,  ten  days  after  the  failure  of  Cowperwood, 
finding  that  the  rumors  were  growing  in  volume,  and  that 
no  one  appeared  to  be  willing  to  take  steps  to  straighten 
the  matter  out,  Mr.  Wheat  called  together  the  committee 
of  ten  estimable  Philadelphians  of  which  he  was  chairman. 

It  was  decided  to  appoint  a  subcommittee  "to  in 
vestigate,"  to  quote  the  statement  eventually  given  to 
the  public,  "the  peculiar  rumors  now  affecting  one  of 

462 


THE    FINANCIER 

the  most  important  and  distinguished  officers  of  our  mu 
nicipal  government,"  and  to  report  at  the  next  meeting, 
which  was  set  for  the  following  evening  at  nine  o'clock. 
The  meeting  adjourned,  and  the  following  night  at 
nine  reassembled,  four  individuals  of  very  shrewd  finan 
cial  judgment  having  meantime  been  about  the  task  as 
signed  them.  They  drew  up  a  very  elaborate  statement, 
not  wholly  in  accordance  with  the  facts,  but  as  nearly  so 
as  could  be  ascertained  in  so  short  a  space  of  time. 

"It  appears  [read  the  report,  after  a  preamble  which  explained 
why  the  committee  had  been  appointed]  that  it  has  been  the  cus 
tom  of  city  treasurers  for  years,  when  loans  have  been  authorized 
by  councils,  to  place  them  in  the  hands  of  some  favorite  broker  for 
sale,  the  broker  accounting  to  the  treasurer  for  the  moneys  received 
by  such  sales  at  short  periods,  generally  the  first  of  each  month. 
In  the  present  case  Frank  A.  Cowperwood  has  been  acting  as  such 
broker  for  the  city  treasurer.  But  even  this  vicious  and  unbusi 
nesslike  system  appears  not  to  have  been  adhered  to  in  the  case  of 
Mr.  Cowperwood.  The  accident  of  the  Chicago  fire,  the  consequent 
depression  of  stock  values,  and  the  subsequent  failure  of  Mr.  Frank 
A.  Cowperwood  have  so  involved  matters  temporarily  that  the  com 
mittee  has  not  been  able  to  ascertain  with  accuracy  that  regular 
accounts  have  been  rendered;  but  from  the  manner  in  which  Mr. 
Cowperwood  has  had  possession  of  bonds  (city  loans)  for  hypothe 
cation,  etc.,  it  appears  that  the  transfers  for  bonds  thus  pledged 
have  been  repudiated.  It  would  appear  that  he  has  been  held  to 
no  responsibility  in  these  matters,  and  that  there  have  always  been 
under  his  control  several  hundred  thousand  dollars  of  cash  or  securi 
ties  belonging  to  the  city,  which  he  has  manipulated  for  various 
purposes;  but  the  details  of  the  results  of  these  transactions  are  not 
easily  available. 

"Some  of  the  operations  consisted  of  hypothecation  of  large 
amounts  of  these  loans  before  the  certificates  were  issued,  the  lender 
seeing  that  the  order  for  the  hypothecated  securities  was  duly  made 
to  him  on  the  books  of  the  treasurer.  Such  methods  appear  to  have 
been  occurring  for  a  long  time,  and  it  being  incredible  that  the  city 
treasurer  could  be  unaware  of  the  nature  of  the  business,  there  is 
indication  of  a  complicity  between  him  and  Mr.  Cowperwood  to 
benefit  by  the  use  of  the  city  credit,  in  violation  of  the  law. 

"At  the  very  time  these  hypothecations  were  being  made,  and  the 
city  paying  interest  upon  such  loans,  the  money  representing  them 

463 


THE    FINANCIER 

was  in  the  hands  of  the  treasurer's  broker  and  bearing  no  interest 
to  the  city.  The  payment  of  municipal  warrants  was  postponed,  and 
they  were  being  purchased  at  a  discount  in  large  amounts  by  Mr. 
Cowperwood  with  the  very  money  that  should  have  been  in  the 
city  treasury.  The  bona  fide  holders  of  the  orders  for  certificates 
of  loans  are  now  unable  to  obtain  them,  and  thus  the  city's  credit 
is  injured  to  a  greater  extent  than  the  present  defalcation,  which 
amounts  to  over  five  hundred  thousand  dollars.  An  accountant  is 
now  engaged  at  the  treasurer's  books,  and  a  few  days  will  make 
clear  the  whole  modus  operandi.  It  is  hoped  that  the  publicity  thus 
obtained  will  break  up  such  vicious  practices." 

There  was  appended  along  with  this  report  a  quotation 
from  the  law  governing  the  abuse  of  a  public  trust;  and 
the  committee  went  on  to  say  that,  unless  some  taxpayer 
chose  to  initiate  proceedings  for  the  prosecution  of  those 
concerned,  the  committee  itself  would  be  called  upon 
to  do  so,  although  such  action  hardly  came  within  the 
object  for  which  it  was  formed. 

This  report  was  immediately  given  to  the  papers. 
Such  a  public  announcement  had  been  anticipated  in  one 
form  or  other  by  Cowperwood  and  the  politicians;  but 
this  was,  nevertheless,  a  severe  blow — a  real  thunder 
clap  to  the  public  at  large,  and  it  created  the  storm  of 
ill  feeling  and  social  opposition  that  might  have  been 
expected.  Cowperwood  was  not  surprised.  It  was 
merely  one  additional  ill  among  many.  But  Stener,  who 
was  now  being  used  wholly  as  a  tool  in  this  situation,  was 
beside  himself  with  fear.  These  days  he  lay  in  his  bed 
at  his  new  home  in  Spring  Garden  Street,  and  scanned  all 
the  daily  papers,  the  while  his  wife  looked  after  the 
ordering  of  the  breakfast.  He  broke  into  a  cold  sweat 
when  he  saw  the  announcement  which  was  conservatively 
headed  by  all  of  the  papers,  "Meeting  of  the  Municipal 
Reform  Association."  All  of  the  papers  were  so  closely 
identified  with  the  political  and  financial  powers  of  the 
city  that  they  did  not  dare  to  come  out  openly  and  say 
what  they  thought.  The  chief  facts  had  already  been 
in  the  hands  of  the  various  editors  and  publishers  for  a 

464 


THE    FINANCIER 

week  and  more,  but  the  word  had  also  gone  around  from 
Mollenhauer,  Simpson,  and  Butler  to  press  down  on  the 
soft  pedal  for  the  present.  No  great  fuss  must  be  made. 
It  was  not  good  for  Philadelphia,  for  local  commerce, 
etc.,  to  make  a  row.  The  fair  name  of  the  city  would  be 
injured.  It  was  the  old  story. 

That  desperate  scheme  to  cast  the  blame  on  Cowper- 
wood  temporarily,  which  had  been  concocted  by  Mollen 
hauer,  Butler,  and  Simpson,  to  get  the  odium  of  the  crime 
outside  the  party  lines  for  the  time  being,  was  now  lugged 
forth  and  put  in  operation.  It  was  interesting  and 
strange  to  note  how  quickly  the  newspapers,  and  even 
the  Citizens'  Municipal  Reform  Association,  got  the  no 
tion  that  Cowperwood  was  largely,  if  not  solely,  to  blame. 
Stener  had  loaned  him  the  money,  it  is  true — put  bond 
issues  in  his  hands  for  sale — but  somehow  every  one 
seemed  to  gain  the  impression  that  Cowperwood  had  des 
perately  misused  the  treasurer.  The  fact  that  he  had  taken 
a  sixty-thousand-dollar  check  for  certificates  which  were 
not  in  the  sinking-fund  was  hinted  at,  though  until  they 
could  actually  confirm  this  for  themselves  both  the  news 
papers  and  the  committee  were  too  fearful  of  the  State 
libel  laws  to  say  so.  Nevertheless,  the  general  impression 
was  that  Cowperwood  was  the  scoundrel.  All  the  little 
politicians  like  Strobik,  Harmon,  Wycroft,  District-At 
torney  Pettie,  and  others  were  wagging  their  heads  solemn 
ly  and  saying  only  those  things  which  they  were  told  to 
say.  In  due  time  were  brought  forth  those  noble  munic 
ipal  letters,  purporting  to  be  a  stern  call  on  the  part  of 
the  mayor,  Mr.  Jacob  Borchardt,  on  Mr.  George  W. 
Stener  for  an  immediate  explanation  of  his  conduct,  and 
the  latter's  reply,  which  were  at  once  given  to  the  news 
papers  and  the  Citizens'  Municipal  Reform  Association. 
These  letters  were  enough  to  show,  so  the  politicians 
figured,  that  the  Republican  party  was  anxious  to  purge 
itself  of  any  miscreant  within  its  ranks,  and  they  also 
helped  to  pass  the  time  until  after  election.  The  thing  to 

46  $ 


THE    FINANCIER 

do  was  to  get  past  the  election  safely,  when  Stener  and 
Cowperwood  might  well  be  dealt  with  as  occasion  war 
ranted.  Mr.  Mollenhauer,  Mr.  Butler,  and  Mr.  Simp 
son  watched  with  interest  to  see  what  effect  these  letters 
would  have,  though  Butler  was  not  anxious  to  have  any 
thing  interfere  with  the  ultimate  punishment  which  he 
felt  was  due  Cowperwood.  Mollenhauer  had  not  told 
him  as  yet  of  Cowperwood's  call.  Here  are  the  letters: 

OFFICE  OF  THE  MAYOR  OF  THE  CITY  OF  PHILADELPHIA 

GEORGE  W.  STENER,  Esq.,  October  18,  1871. 

City  Treasurer. 

DEAR  SIR, — Information  has  been  given  me  that  certificates  of 
city  loan  to  a  large  amount,  issued  by  you  for  sale  on  account  of  the 
city,  and,  I  presume,  after  the  usual  requisition  from  the  mayor 
of  the  city,  have  passed  out  of  your  custody,  and  that  the  proceeds 
of  the  sale  of  said  certificates  have  not  been  paid  into  the  city 
treasury. 

I  have  also  been  informed  that  a  large  amount  of  the  city's  money 
has  been  permitted  to  pass  into  the  hands  of  some  one  or  more 
brokers  or  bankers  doing  business  on  Third  Street,  and  that  said 
brokers  or  bankers  have  since  met  with  financial  difficulties,  where 
by,  and  by  reason  of  the  above  generally,  the  interests  of  the  city 
are  likely  to  be  very  seriously  affected. 

I  have  therefore  to  request  that  you  will  promptly  advise  me  of 
the  truth  or  falsity  of  these  statements,  so  that  such  duties  as  de 
volve  upon  me  as  the  chief  magistrate  of  the  city,  in  view  of  such 
facts,  if  they  exist,  may  be  intelligently  discharged. 

Yours  respectfully,        JACOB  BORCHARDT. 

OFFICE  OF  THE  TREASURER  OF  THE  CITY  OF  PHILADELPHIA 
HON.   JACOB  BORCHARDT.  October  19,  1871. 

DEAR  SIR, — I  have  to  acknowledge  the  receipt  of  your  communi 
cation  of  the  2  ist  instant,  and  to  express  my  regret  that  I  cannot 
at  this  time  give  you  the  information  you  ask.  There  is  undoubted 
ly  an  embarrassment  in  the  city  treasury,  owing  to  the  delinquency 
of  the  broker  who  for  several  years  past  has  negotiated  the  city 
loans,  and  I  have  been,  since  the  discovery  of  this  fact,  and  still 
am  occupied  in  endeavoring  to  avert  or  lessen  the  loss  with  which 
the  city  is  threatened.  I  am,  very  respectfully, 

GEORGE  W.  STENER. 

466 


THE    FI  NANCI  ER 

OFFICE  OF  THE  MAYOR  OF  THE  CITY  OF  PHILADELPHIA 

October  21,  1871. 
GEORGE  W.  STENER,  Esq., 

City  Treasurer. 

DEAR  SIR, — Under  the  existing  circumstances  you  will  consider 
this  as  a  notice  of  withdrawal  and  revocation  of  any  requisition  or 
authority  by  me  for  the  sale  of  loan,  so  far  as  the  same  has  not  been 
fulfilled.  Applications  for  loans,  authorized  and  not  issued,  may  for 
the  present  be  made  at  this  office. 

Very  respectfully, 

JACOB  BORCHARDT, 
Mayor  of  Philadelphia. 

And  do  you  think,  dear  reader,  that  Mr.  Jacob  Bor- 
chardt  wrote  the  letters  to  which  his  name  was  attached  ? 
He  did  not.  Mr.  Abner  Sengstack  wrote  them  in  Mr. 
Mollenhauer's  office,  and  Mr.  Mollenhauer's  comment 
when  he  saw  them  was  that  he  thought  they  would  do — 
that  they  were  very  good,  in  fact.  And  do  you  think  Mr. 
George  W.  Stener,  city  treasurer  of  Philadelphia,  wrote 
his  very  politic  reply?  You  know  he  did  not.  Mr.  Stener 
was  in  a  state  of  complete  collapse,  even  crying  at  one 
time  at  home  in  his  bath-tub.  Mr.  Abner  Sengstack  wrote 
that,  and  had  Mr.  Stener  sign  it.  And  Mr.  Mollenhauer's 
comment  on  that,  before  it  was  sent,  was  that  he  thought 
it  was  "all  right."  It  was  a  time  when  all  the  little 
rats  and  mice  were  scurrying  to  cover  because  of  the 
presence  of  a  great,  fiery-eyed  public  cat  somewhere  in 
the  dark,  and  only  the  older  and  wiser  rats  were  able  to 
act.  Mr.  Mollenhauer,  Mr.  Butler,  and  Mr.  Simpson, 
who  had  now  returned,  were  conferring  frequently.  They 
were  sending  orders  to  Mr.  Borchardt,  the  mayor  of  the 
city,  Mr.  Strobik,  president  of  council,  and  Mr.  Stener, 
semi-defunct  city  treasurer,  as  you  would  send  orders  to 
a  hall-boy. 

They  were  considering  with  Mr.  Pettie,  the  district 
attorney,  just  what  could  be  done  about  Cowperwood, 
if  anything,  and  just  what  defense,  if  any,  could  be  made 

467 


THE    FINANCIER 

for  Mr.  Stener.  Butler  was  strong  for  Cowperwood's 
prosecution,  of  course.  The  latter  was  very  much  in  the 
public  eye  just  now.  Butler  argued  the  public  seemed 
to  want  to  blame  him.  He  was  rich.  A  fine  opportunity. 
Mr.  Pettie  did  not  see  that  any  defense  could  be  made  for 
Stener;  but  Cowperwood — "  Let  me  see,"  he  said.  They 
were  figuring  that,  first  of  all,  whatever  the  justice  of  the 
facts,  it  would  be  good  policy  to  arrest  Cowperwood,  and  if 
necessary  try  him.  Stener 's  story  of  how  Cowperwood 
secured  sixty  thousand  dollars  via  Albert  Stires  and  a 
false  claim  seemed  to  constitute  a  good  basis  for  action. 
His  disposal  of  the  sixty-thousand-dollar  check  without 
making  any  return  to  the  city,  up  to  now,  constituted 
larceny  or  larceny  as  bailee,  or  embezzlement  or  em 
bezzlement  on  a  check.  He  could  be  readily  arrested 
on  any  one  or  two,  or  all  four,  of  these  charges,  for  that 
matter,  and  locked  up  and  tried.  It  was  Mr.  Pettie  who 
offered  these  various  suggestions.  Cowperwood's  mere 
arrest,  Butler  and  the  others  reasoned,  would  seem  like 
a  great  evidence  of  virtuous  indignation  on  the  part  of 
the  other  officers  of  the  administration ;  and  in  a  way  this 
would  divert  attention  from  the  evil  nature  of  the  dear, 
darling  party  until  after  election — which  was  what  was 
wanted. 

So  finally,  on  October  23d,  two  days  after  Mr.  Skelton 
C.  Wheat  had  issued  the  first  thunderous  blast — when 
there  was  not  a  moment  longer  to  lose — the  several  letters 
so  carefully  and  forcefully  prepared  were  properly  sent 
and  received,  and  finally  given  to  the  papers,  which  were 
clamoring  for  information;  and  then  Mr.  Mollenhauer 
and  Mr.  Simpson  and  Mr.  Butler  .conferred  some  more. 
Finally,  on  the  afternoon  of  October  26,  1871,  Mr.  Edward 
Strobik,  president  of  the  common  council  of  Philadel 
phia,  and  acting  in  that  capacity  solely  for  the  city, 
appeared  before  the  mayor,  as  finally  ordered  by  Mr. 
Mollenhauer,  after  a  conference,  and  charged  by  affidavit 
that  Mr.  Frank  A.  Cowperwood,  as  broker,  employed  by 

468 


'THE    FI  NANCI  ER 

the  treasurer  to  sell  the  bonds  of  the  city,  had  committed 
embezzlement  and  larceny  as  bailee.  It  did  not  matter 
that  he  charged  Mr.  George  W.  Stener  with  embezzle 
ment  at  the  same  time.  Cowperwood  was  the  scape 
goat  they  were  after. 

In  that  minor  world  of  the  small  politicians — those 
below  Simpson,  Mollenhauer,  and  Butler — which  con 
cerned  Mr.  Borchardt,  Mr.  Strobik,  Mr.  Wycroft,  Mr. 
Harmon,  Mr.  Stener,  and  others,  things  were  equally 
subtle,  treacherous,  uncertain,  and  anything  but  pleasant 
to  contemplate.  These  gentlemen,  aside  from  their  con 
nection  with  Mr.  Mollenhauer,  which  was  dark,  safe,  and 
never  to  be  spoken  of,  had  all  been  making  a  little  money 
out  of  the  pliability  and  financial  immorality  of  Mr. 
Stener,  to  say  nothing  of  the  cleverness  of  Mr.  Cowper 
wood.  As  has  been  said,  Mr.  Strobik,  Mr.  Wycroft, 
and  Mr.  Harmon  were  on  Mr.  Stener's  bond  as  treasurer, 
which  was  against  the  law  in  the  first  place.  They  had 
no  business  to  be;  but  it  was  profitable. 

Then  they  had  all  shared  Mr.  Stener's  earlier  earnings. 
Now,  however,  Mr.  Stener's  bond  was  in  danger  of  being 
forfeited.  His  affairs  were  being  investigated.  Did 
friendship  last?  It  did  not.  They,  all  of  them,  were 
now  watching  each  other  like  a  lot  of  cats  and  rats,  each 
figuring  how  he  could  protect  himself  as  to  his  bond  and 
his  holdings  by  getting  Stener  to  make  over  his  property 
to  him,  individually,  instead  of  to  all  three  of  them  col 
lectively,  and  before  it  could  or  should  (owing,  perhaps, 
to  public  clamor)  be  perforce  seized  by  some  one  for  the 
city. 

There  was  much  running  to  and  fro  here.  There  was 
much  conferring  with  Mr.  Stener  and  whispering  with 
each  other.  It  was,  of  course,  against  the  law  for  Mr. 
Stener  to  assign  his  property — such  little  of  it  as  there  was 
left  after  his  transactions  with  Mr.  Mollenhauer — to  any 
one,  seeing  that  he  was  indebted  to  the  city  to  the  extent 

469 


THE    FINANCIER 

of  five  hundred  thousand  dollars;  but  under  the  advice 
of  Mr.  Strobik — and  with  promise  of  the  latter's  aid  as 
president  of  council — he  did  so  do,  giving  Mr.  Strobik 
secretly  the  lion's  share.  These  men,  Strobik,  Wycroft, 
Harmon,  and  others,  had  always  been  slapping  each  other 
on  the  back  in  great  good-humor  during  their  days  of 
prosperity.  They  had  dined  at  Stener's  house  time  and 
again.  They  had  gone  off  with  him,  or  rather  taken 
him  along  on  week-end  junkets,  some  of  which  were  any 
thing  but  admirable ;  and  he  had  been  properly  repentant 
afterward,  for  he  was  not  a  man  with  any  courage  out 
side  of  the  conventions. 

Now  his  one-time  friends  all  turned  on  him  with  subtle 
eyes,  contemptuous  of  his  weakness,  anxious  to  save 
themselves,  and  caring  absolutely  nothing  of  what  be 
came  of  him.  He  was  a  sinking  ship.  Only  the  fear  of 
the  public  and  the  political  bosses  ruled  with  these  men. 
They  did  not  dare  to  be  too  eager  in  their  scurrying  to 
shelter,  for  fear  Mr.  Mollenhauer,  or  some  one  else,  might 
become  politically  disgusted  with  them.  Depend  on  it, 
however,  Mr.  George  W.  Stener's  political  carcass  was 
being  as  rapidly  and  as  effectively  picked  clean  and  bare 
to  the  bone  as  this  particular  flock  of  political  buzzards 
knew  how  to  pick  him. 

Such  is  life. 


CHAPTER  XLIII 

THIS  charging  of  Cowperwood  by  the  politicians 
with  "larceny,  larceny  as  bailee,  embezzlement,  and 
embezzlement  on  a  check,"  as  Mr.  Pettie  had  framed 
this  matter  for  them,  was  a  severe  and  dangerous  blow 
to  him.  He  was  in  so  bad  a  state  financially,  asking  for 
credits  and  extensions  here  and  there,  and  doing  his  best 
to  have  his  creditors  agree  to  let  him  go  on,  that  to  have 
this  high-sounding  and  complicated  charge  laid  at  his 
door  was  very  destructive.  His  wife  saw  it  the  following 
morning  after  it  was  made,  blazoned  in  the  head-lines  of 
the  papers;  and  she  and  his  mother  and  father  were  all 
compelled  to  witness  it — with  what  feelings,  one  can  im 
agine.  Old  Cowperwood  read  his  own  personal  doom 
in  it  so  far  as  the  presidency  of  the  Third  National  Bank 
was  concerned;  and  Mrs.  Cowperwood,  Frank's  wife,  saw 
her  own  and  his  fortune,  as  she  thought,  going  straight 
way  to  nothing.  How  could  he  recover  from  a  slap  like 
this?  Who  would  believe  him  in  the  future,  seeing  that 
in  addition  he  had  failed  for  so  large  a  sum?  Butler, 
Sr.,  was  delighted  (concerned  though  he  was  about 
party  success  at  the  polls) ;  for,  now  he  had  this  villain  in 
the  toils,  he  would  see  that  the  matter  was  properly  fol 
lowed  up.  Cowperwood  would  have  a  fine  time  getting 
out  of  this.  The  incoming  district  attorney  to  succeed 
David  Pettie,  in  case  the  Republican  party  was  again 
successful  at  the  polls,  was  an  appointee  of  Butler's — a 
young  Irishman  who  had  done  considerable  legal  work 
for  him — one  Dennis  Shannon.  Shannon  was  a  smart, 
athletic,  good-looking  young  Irishman,  all  of  five  feet 
ten  inches  in  height,  sandy-haired,  pink-cheeked,  blue- 


THE    FINANCIER 

eyed,  considerable  of  an  orator,  and  a  fine  legal  fighter. 
Through  him  Butler  had  of  late  won  quite  a  few  damage 
suits  instituted  against  himself.  Shannon  was  very  proud 
to  be  in  the  old  man's  favor,  to  have  been  put  on  the  ticket 
by  him,  and  would,  if  elected,  do  his  bidding  to  the  best 
of  his  knowledge  and  ability.  Besides,  even  if  it  was 
technically  owing  to  Stener  that  the  treasury  was  now 
short  five  hundred  thousand  dollars,  it  was,  in  the  public 
mind,  primarily  due  to  Cowperwood  and  his  wretched 
machinations.  The  papers  made  it  look  that  way.  For 
a  little  while  the  Citizens'  Municipal  Reform  Association, 
too,  was  deceived.  Cowperwood  had  gone  personally 
to  Skelton  C.  Wheat  and  tried  to  explain  his  side  of  the 
situation,  alleging  that  what  he  had  done  was  no  different 
from  what  many  others  had  done  before  him,  and  were 
still  doing,  but  Wheat  was  dubious.  He  did  not  see  how 
it  was  that  the  sixty  thousand  dollars'  worth  of  certificates 
were  not  in  the  sinking-fund.  Cowperwood's  explanation 
of  custom  did  not  avail.  Nevertheless,  Mr.  Wheat  saw 
that  others  in  politics  had  been  profiting  quite  as  much  as 
Cowperwood  in  other  ways;  but  he  could  not  do  anything 
about  that  now.  He  advised  Cowperwood  to  turn  State's 
evidence,  if  they  would  let  him,  which  the  latter  promptly 
refused  to  do.  He  was  no  "squealer,"  and  indicated  as 
much  to  Mr.  Wheat.  The  latter  smiled  wryly. 

Butler  on  his  part  kept  himself  busy  indicating  to  all 
with  whom  he  came  in  contact  how  evil  Cowperwood  really 
was.  He  did  not  want  the  financier  to  escape  by  any 
chance.  Aileen  was  beside  herself  with  distress;  but  she 
could  do  nothing.  She  scarcely  realized  what  was  going  on. 
Butler  argued  with  himself  that  she  was  still  young  and 
must  have  another  chance.  If  he  did  something  radical 
now  to  break  off  this  liaison  she  could  still  be  established 
in  merit  and  decency.  So  far  as  the  world  knew — he 
could  not  tell  how  far  the  gossip  which  had  produced  the 
letter  had  gone,  but  he  hoped  it  had  not  gone  far — she  was 
still  unsoiled  and  unspoiled.  With  her  position  and  her 

472 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

money  she  could  still  make  a  fine  match.  It  would  take  a 
drastic  move  like  this,  though,  to  open  her  eyes.  She  would 
have  to  see  Cowperwood  charged  with  a  crime  in  this 
manner,  convicted,  and  sent  to  the  penitentiary,  if  neces 
sary,  before  she  would  let  go,  and  before  he  would  let  go. 
Convict  stripes  would  do  it.  They  would  cure  her  and 
properly  smoke  out  and  ostracize  Cowperwood.  Butler 
had  no  whit  of  sympathy  for  the  young  financier,  once 
he  realized  how  thoroughly  he  himself  had  been  put  upon. 

"The  man's  no  good,"  he  said,  one  day,  to  District- 
Attorney  Pettie,  in  talking  over  the  case  with  him  and 
indicating  what  he  thought  ought  to  be  done.  "He's  a 
sharper — you  can  see  that.  Look  how  he  worked  that 
check  business.  Only  a  sharper  could  do  that.  We 
needn't  be  worryin'  about  him,  I'm  thinkin'.  He'll 
look  after  himself."  He  said  the  same  thing  to  young 
Dennis  Shannon;  and,  of  course,  that  young,  ambitious 
political  aspirant  immediately  took  sides  against  Cow 
perwood.  He  became  his  subtle  enemy,  waiting  only  until 
he  should  get  into  office  in  order  to  prosecute  him  properly. 

There  was  only  one  fly  in  this  ointment,  so  far  as  some 
of  the  politicians  were  concerned;  and  that  was  due  to 
the  fact  that  if  Cowperwood  were  convicted,  Stener  must 
needs  be  also.  There  was  no  escape  for  the  city  treas 
urer.  If  Cowperwood  was  guilty  of  securing  by  trickery 
sixty  thousand  dollars'  worth  of  the  city  money,  Stener 
was  guilty  of  securing  five  hundred  thousand  dollars. 
The  prison  term  for  this  was  five  years.  There  was  no 
escape.  He  might  plead  not  guilty,  and,  by  submitting 
as  evidence  that  what  he  did  was  due  to  custom,  save 
himself  from  the  odious  condition  of  pleading  guilty; 
but  he  would  be  convicted,  nevertheless.  No  jury  could 
get  by  the  fact  in  regard  to  him.  In  spite  of  public  opinion, 
when  it  came  to  a  trial  there  might  be  considerable  doubt 
in  Cowperwood's  case.  There  was  none  in  Stener's. 

The  practical  manner  in  which  the  situation  was 
furthered,  after  Cowperwood  and  Stener  were  formally 
16  473 


THE    FINANCIER 

charged,  may  be  quickly  noted.  Steger,  Cowperwood's 
lawyer,  who,  as  an  active  participant,  was  in  close 
touch  with  Mr.  David  Pettie,  the  district  attorney, 
learned  privately  beforehand  that  Cowperwood  was  to 
be  prosecuted.  He  arranged  at  once  to  have  his  client 
appear  before  any  warrant  could  be  served,  and  so  fore 
stall  the  newspaper  palaver  which  would  follow  if  he  had 
to  be  searched  for. 

The  mayor,  following  Strobik's  charge,  issued  a  warrant 
for  Cowperwood's  arrest;  and,  in  accordance  with  Steger's 
plan,  Cowperwood  immediately  appeared  before  Borchardt 
in  company  with  his  lawyer  and  gave  bail  in  twenty 
thousand  dollars  (W.  C.  Davison,  president  of  the  Girard 
National  Bank,  was  his  surety)  for  his  appearance  at  the 
central  police  station  on  the  following  Saturday  for  a 
hearing.  Marcus  Oldslaw,  a  lawyer,  had  been  employed 
by  Strobik,  as  president  of  the  common  council,  to  repre 
sent  him  in  prosecuting  for  the  city  the  dastardly  crime 
of  Cowperwood.  Mr.  Stener  did  not  appear  at  the  same 
time.  The  mayor,  when  Cowperwood  came  in,  looked 
at  him  curiously,  for  he,  being  comparatively  new  to  the 
political  world  of  Philadelphia,  was  not  so  familiar  with 
him  as  others  were;  and  Cowperwood  returned  the  look 
pleasantly  enough. 

"This  is  a  great  dumb  show,  Mr.  Mayor,"  he  observed 
once  to  Borchardt,  quietly;  and  the  latter  replied,  with  a 
smile  and  a  kindly  eye,  that  in  as  far  as  he  was  con 
cerned  it  was  a  form  of  procedure  which  was  absolutely 
unavoidable  at  this  time. 

"You  know  how  it  is,  Mr.  Cowperwood,"  he  observed. 

The  latter  smiled.     "I  do,  indeed,"  he  said. 

He  and  Steger  went  out  quickly  after  a  few  moments' 
conversation  with  Borchardt;  but  the  newspapers  were 
soon  out  with  all  the  details,  and  the  aggregation  of 
anxious  souls  in  Girard  Avenue  were  compelled  to  witness 
this  latest  development  in  his  affairs. 

Later  there  followed  several  more  or  less  perfunctory 

474 


THE    FINANCIER 

appearances  in  a  local  police  court,  known  as  the  Central 
Court,  where  Cowperwood  when  arraigned  pleaded  not 
guilty,  and  finally  his  appearance  before  the  November 
grand  jury,  where,  owing  to  the  complicated  nature  of  the 
charge  drawn  up  against  him  by  David  Pettie,  he  thought 
it  wise  to  appear.  He  was  properly  indicted  by  the 
latter  body  (Mr.  Shannon,  the  newly  elected  district 
attorney,  making  a  demonstration  in  force),  and  his 
trial  ordered  for  December  5th  before  a  certain  Judge 
Payderson  in  Part  I  of  Quarter  Sessions,  which  was  the 
local  branch  of  the  State  courts  dealing  with  crimes  of 
this  character.  Cowperwood's  indictment  did  not  occur, 
however,  before  the  coming  and  going  of  the  much- 
mooted  fall  election. 

This  election,  thanks  to  the  fine  political  suggestions 
and  manipulations  of  Mr.  Mollenhauer  and  Mr.  Simpson 
(ballot-box  stuffing  and  personal  violence  at  the  polls 
not  barred),  resulted,  in  spite  of  the  black  record  of  the 
dominant  party,  in  another  victory,  by,  however,  a  greatly 
reduced  majority.  This  injected  the  personality  of  Mr. 
Dennis  Shannon  into  the  treasury  case — as  district  at 
torney  to  succeed  Mr.  Pettie,  retired — who  immediately 
took  hold  in  a  brisk  and  effective  way,  doing  all  he  could 
to  further  the  interests  of  his  superior,  Butler,  who  seemed 
set  on  Cowperwood's  conviction.  The  Citizens'  Municipal 
Reform  Association,  in  spite  of  a  resounding  defeat  at 
the  polls  which  could  not  have  happened  except  for  fraud, 
continued  to  fire  courageously  away  at  those  whom  it 
considered  to  be  the  chief  malefactors. 

The  contrasting  pictures  presented  by  George  W. 
Stener  and  Frank  Algernon  Cowperwood  at  this  time  is 
well  worth  a  moment's  consideration.  Cowperwood, 
despite  his  solemn  thoughts  concerning  a  possible  period 
of  incarceration  which  this  hue  and  cry  now  suggested, 
was  as  calm  and  collected  as  one  might  suppose  his  great 
mental  resources  would  permit  him  to  be.  He  was  in 

475 


THE    FINANCIER 

no  way  apparently  disturbed.     During  all  this  whirl  of 
disaster  he  had  never  once  lost  his  head  or  his  courage. 

T  That  thing  conscience,  which  obsesses  and  rides  some 
"people  to  destruction,  did  not  trouble  him  at  all.  He  had 
no  consciousness  of  what  is  currently  known  as  sin.  He 
never  gave  a  thought  to  the  vast  palaver  concerning  evil 
which  is  constantly  going  on.  There  were  just  two 
faces  to  the  shield  of  life  from  the  point  of  view  of  his 
peculiar  mind — strength  and  weakness.  Right  and  wrong? 

1  He  did  not  know  about  those.  They  were  bound  up  in 
metaphysical  abstrusities  about  which  he  did  not  care 
to  bother.  Good  and  evil?  Those  were  toys  of  clerics, 
by  which  they  made  money.  Morality  and  immorality? 
He  never  considered  them.  But  strength  and  weakness 
— oh  yes!  If  you  had  strength  you  could  protect  your 
self  always  and  be  something.  If  you  were  weak — pass 
quickly  to  the  rear  and  get  out  of  the  range  of  the  guns. 
He  was  strong,  and  he  knew  it;  and  somehow  he  always 
believed  in  his  star.  ^Something — he  could  not  say  what, 
it  was  the  only  metaphysics  he  bothered  about — was  doing 
something  for  him.  It  had  always  helped  him.  It  made 
things  come  out  right  at  times.  It  put  excellent  oppor 
tunities  in  his  way.  Why  had  he  been  given  so  fine  a 
mind?  Why  always  favored  financially,  personally?  He 
had  not  deserved  it,  earned  it.  Accident,  perhaps;  but 
somehow  the  thought  that  he  would  always  be  protected 
— these  intuitions,  the  " hunches"  to  act  which  he  fre 
quently  had — could  not  be  so  easily  explained.  Life  was 
a  dark,  insoluble  mystery;  but,  whatever  it  was,  strength 
and  weakness  were  its  two  constituents.  Strength  would 
win;  weakness  lose.  He  must  rely  on  swiftness  of 
thought,  accuracy,  his  judgment,  and  on  nothing  else. 

At  each  addition  to  the  shadowy  flock  of  disasters  which 
of  late  ;had  arrived  and  were  circling  about  him,  he 
merely  contemplated  them  more  accurately  as  a  juggler 
might  contemplate  additional  spheres  cast  into  the  air  and 
spinning  about  his  head,  and  which  he  must  maintain  in 

476 


THE    FINANCIER 

motion  without  dropping  any  of  them.  These  disasters 
must  not  light.  He  must  shoo  them  away.  New  woes 
might  arrive  hourly;  but  Cowperwood  would  not  cease  to 
estimate  them  at  their  true  value — to  weigh  and  place  them 
as  they  came.  How  much  damage  could  this  new  one 
do  ?  How  would  it  affect  all  the  old  ones  ?  Where  would 
he  place  it  so  it  would  do  the  least  damage  ?  How  would 
he  forfend  against  its  possible  evil  effect?  How  many 
disasters  could  he  keep  up  in  the  air  at  once  without  let 
ting  them  fall  ?  His  lightning  brain  followed  with  photo 
graphic  accuracy  all  the  probable  ramifications  of  each 
new  woe  in  all  its  subtle  reaches,  and  ran  to  do  battle. 
He  had  no  sense  of  fear — only  a  defensive  and  construc 
tive  awareness.  He  was  really  a  brilliant  picture  of 
courage  and  energy — moving  about  briskly  in  a  jaunty, 
dapper  way,  his  mustaches  curled,  his  clothes  pressed, 
his  nails  manicured,  his  face  clean-shaven  and  tinted 
with  health.  He  was  not  pale  or  distraught.  What  was 
behind  that  steady,  inscrutable  eye  you  might  not  say. 
It  gave  you  not  the  slightest  indication  of  what  was 
going  on  in  the  brain  behind. 

On  the  other  hand,  consider  Stener.  On  the  morning, 
for  instance,  when  Cowperwood  was  looking  at  the  first 
notice  of  his  own  complicity  in  the  defalcation  of  the  city 
treasurer  as  announced  by  the  Citizens'  Municipal  Reform 
Association,  never  turning  a  hair,  wondering  how  long  it 
would  take  this  destructive  publicity  to  die  down  and  what 
he  could  do  to  make  his  own  skirts  seem  sweet  and  clean 
— Stener,  as  we  have  seen,  was  lying  in  his  bed  absolutely 
collapsed.  The  cold  sweat  of  the  first  few  moments  gave 
way  to  complete  nervous  inertia  a  few  moments  later, 
and  there  he  lay.  He  might  readily  have  died  of  heart 
failure.  His  face  was  grayish  white,  his  lips  blue.  He 
had  been  warned  well  enough  beforehand  by  the  fact  of 
Cowperwood's  failure  that  this  publicity  was  to  come; 
but  for  all  this  he  was  not  prepared.  He  had  been  run 
ning  all  week  in  an  agonized  way  to  Mollenhauer,  Strobik, 

477 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

Jacob  Borchardt,  and  others,  listening  helplessly  to  every 
suggestion  as  to  how  best  he  should  evade  the  conse 
quences  of  his  deeds ;  but  he  had  no  resource  within  him 
self.  His  own  mind  did  not  tell  him  what  to  do.  His 
so-called  conscience — which  was  what  others  thought,  or 
what  they  pretended  they  were  thinking — seared  him  like 
a  white  flame.  Like  Cowperwood's  father,  only  much 
faster,  he  was  rapidly  getting  thin.  A  new  suit  of  brown 
clothes  that  ten  days  before  fitted  him  perfectly  now 
hung  on  him  loosely.  His  big  stomach  was  steadily 
lessening  in  girth. 

"Oh!"  he  groaned.  "Oh!"  and  the  force  of  the  sigh 
affected  his  whole  frame.  It  was  like  the  crinkling  effect 
of  a  rapidly  deflating  gas-bag. 

"Why,  George,"  asked  his  wife,  coming  in — she  was  a 
small,  homely,  hard-worked  woman,  whose  pinching  labor 
of  former  years  had  removed  nearly  all  traces  of  feminine 
charm — "what's  the  matter?  What's  happened?" 

"Nothing,"  he  sighed,  wearily,  when  he  could  get  his 
breath;  but  she  knew  better.  She  knew  well  enough  why 
he  was  scanning  the  papers  every  day  so  closely.  The 
Chicago  fire,  Cowperwood's  failure,  their  united  invest 
ments  had  been  no  secret  to  her.  She  had  heard  Stener 
expatiate  too  fulsomely  in  times  past  concerning  his 
prospects,  Cowperwood's,  those  of  Strobik,  Wycroft,  and 
Harmon.  Cowperwood's  skill,  their  joint  investments, 
their  future  prospects — all  had  been  discussed;  and  now 
she  knew  well  enough  that  disaster  was  near.  She  did 
not  know  that  her  inefficient  husband  could  actually  be 
sent  to  the  penitentiary;  only  that  his  prosperity  was  all 
over.  In  the  agonized  expression  of  his  face  she  read  all 
the  horrors  of  debasement  and  difficulty  with  which  he 
invested  the  future.  Their  property  was  to  be  swept 
away;  their  children  reduced  to  penury.  Like  every 
dependent  woman  of  this  class,  usually  far  more  resource 
ful  than  her  lord  and  master,  she  tried  to  help  him  think. 
She  was  not  versed  in  finance,  however.  She  knew  noth- 

478 


THE    FINANCIER 

ing  of  politics  or  stock-jobbing.  All  she  could  reason  from 
was  data  which  Stener  gave  her,  and  he  did  not  know. 
Worst  of  all,  she  now  realized  in  a  rather  clear  way  that 
he  did  not  know — that  he  was  an  implement — a  tool  in 
the  hands  of  other  people. 

If  life  presents  a  more  painful  spectacle  than  this,  one 
would  like  to  know  it.  The  damnable  scheme  of  things 
which  we  call  existence  brings  about  conditions  whereby 
whole  masses  suffer  who  have  no  cause  to  suffer,  and,  on 
the  other  hand,  whole  masses  joy  who  have  no  cause  to 
joy.  It  rains  on  the  just  and  the  unjust  impartially. 
We  suffer  for  our  temperaments,  which  we  did  not  make, 
and  for  our  weaknesses  and  lacks,  which  are  no  part  of 
our  willing  or  doing.  Who  by  taking  thought  can  add 
one  cubit  to  his  stature  ?  Who  can  make  his  brain  better  ? 
His  thoughts  swifter?  His  courage  greater?  Who  is  it 
that  can  do  anything  it  was  not  given  him  to  do?  All 
good  things  are  gifts.  There  are  no  creations  of  the  mind 
alone.  Creations,  achievements,  distinguished  results 
always  sink  back  into  so  many  other  things.  They  have 
their  roots  in  inherited  ability,  in  environment,  in  fortune, 
in  a  lucky  star.  There  is  no  possible  contradiction  of  this. 
It  is  so.  So  was  it  ever.  So  will  it  be  from  everlasting 
to  everlasting. 

The  little  woman,  watching  her  husband  this  morning, 
experienced  a  sinking  of  heart  at  the  evidence  of  his 
weakness. 

"Is  there  something  in  the  paper?"  she  asked,  coming 
over — suspecting — really  knowing  full  well  that  there 
was. 

"No,"  he  said.  "Yes,  there  is,  too — a  little  mention." 
She  picked  it  up  and  read  the  long,  solemn  rigmarole 
concerning  the  state  of  her  husband's  office,  which  had 
been  issued  by  the  Citizens'  Municipal  Reform  Associa 
tion.  An  expert  was  going  over  his  books.  There  was 
as  much  as  five  hundred  thousand  dollars  missing.  She 
had  not  known  that. 

479 


THE    FINANCIER 

"Is  it  as  much  as  five  hundred  thousand  dollars?"  she 
paused  to  ask. 

"I  think  so,"  he  admitted,  weakly.  "I'm  not  quite 
sure  yet.  It  may  be  less." 

"And  can't  you  get  any  of  it  back  from  him?  He 
must  have  money."  She  was  referring  to  Cowperwood. 

"I  don't  think  so,"  replied  Stener,  weakly.  "I  don't 
know.  He  led  me  into  this."  There  followed  then  that 
weighing  of  resources  by  her  which  women  in  these  cir 
cumstances  almost  always  undertake.  She  made  a  dozen 
earnest  suggestions  in  regard  to  Mollenhauer,  Simpson, 
Cowperwood,  and  Strobik;  but,  alas!  it  was  merely  con 
versation.  Stener  had  tried  all  these.  There  was  no 
loophole  for  him.  He  was  not  considered.  Because  of 
his  temperament,  his  inability  to  reason,  he  had  been 
marked  for  a  victim,  and  no  one  proposed  to  assist  him 
to  evade  that  role.  He  was  the  one  who  was  going  to  be 
punished,  unless  the  powers  above  him  willed  that  it  was 
not  necessary.  It  all  depended  on  that.  His  wife  went 
out  of  the  room  after  a  time;  but  it  was  only  to  go  into 
another  bedroom  and  stare  out  of  a  window  onto  the 
faded  grass  of  the  fall.  What  was  to  become  of  her  and 
her  husband?  She  always  thought  of  him  and  herself 
and  children  as  a  collective  unit.  There  were  four  chil 
dren,  all  told,  fortunately  well  grown  now.  They  would 
be  very  poor  again,  and,  worst  of  all,  disgraced.  That 
was  what  hurt  her.  She  stared  and  twisted  her  bony 
little  hands.  Her  eyes  did  not  moisten,  but  an  ineffable 
sadness  filled  them.  Sometimes  the  mediocre  and  the 
inefficient  attain  to  a  classic  stature  when  dignified  by 
pain. 


CHAPTER  XLIV 

THE  peculiarity  and  wonder  of  this  situation,  which 
has  been  indicated  rather  swiftly  on  its  technical, 
financial,  and  legal  sides,  was  its  related  human  or  rather 
affectional  and  social  ramifications — in  the  two  Cowper- 
wood  households,  in  the  Butler  household,  in  the  city 
administration — through  Stener,  in  the  financial  and 
social  sections — anywhere  and  everywhere  in  Philadel 
phia,  in  short,  where  the  personality  or  the  fame  or  the 
business  relations  of  Frank  A.  Cowperwood  personally, 
or  Frank  A.  Cowperwood  &  Co.,  had  had  time  to  pene 
trate. 

During  all  this  time  Aileen  Butler  was  following  the 
trend  of  his  outward  vicissitudes  as  heralded  by  the  news 
papers  and  the  local  gossip  with  as  much  interest  and  bias 
and  enthusiasm  for  him,  and  all  that  related  to  him,  as 
her  powerful  physical  and  aflectional  nature  would  per 
mit.  She  was  no  great  reasoner  where  affection  entered 
in,  but  shrewd  enough  without  it;  and,  although  she  saw 
him  often  and  he  told  her  much — as  much  as  his  natural 
caution  would  permit — she  yet  gathered  from  the  news 
papers  and  private  conversation,  at  her  own  family's 
table  and  elsewhere,  that,  as  bad  as  they  said  he  was,  he 
was  not  as  bad  as  he  might  be.  One  item  only,  clipped 
from  the  Philadelphia  Public  Ledger  of  about  this  time, 
a  little  while  after  Cowperwood  had  been  publicly  ac 
cused  of  embezzlement,  comforted  and  consoled  her.  She 
cut  it  out  and  carried  it  in  her  bosom;  for,  somehow, 
it  seemed  to  show  that  her  adored  Frank  was  far  more 
sinned  against  than  sinning.  It  was  a  part  of  one  of 
those  very  numerous  pronunciamientos  or  reports  issued 

481 


THE    FINANCIER 

by  the  Citizens'  Municipal  Reform  Association,  which 
was  persistently  probing  into  this  affair,  and  it  ran: 

The  aspects  of  the  case  are  graver  than  have  yet  been  allowed  to 
reach  the  public.  Five  hundred  thousand  dollars  of  the  deficiency 
arises  not  from  city  bonds  sold  and  not  accounted  for,  but  from  loans 
made  by  the  treasurer  to  his  broker.  The  committee  are  also  in 
formed,  on  what  they  believe  to  be  good  authority,  that  the  loans 
sold  by  the  broker  were  accounted  for  in  the  monthly  settlements 
at  the  lowest  prices  current  during  the  month,  and  that  the  differ 
ence  between  this  rate  and  that  actually  realized  was  divided 
between  the  treasurer  and  the  broker,  thus  making  it  the  interest 
of  both  parties  to  "bear"  the  market  at  some  time  during  the  month, 
so  as  to  obtain  a  low  quotation  for  settlement.  Nevertheless,  the 
committee  can  only  regard  the  prosecution  instituted  against  the 
broker,  Mr.  Cowperwood,  as  an  effort  to  divert  public  attention 
from  more  guilty  parties  while  those  concerned  may  be  able  to 
"fix"  matters  to  suit  themselves. 

"There,"  thought  Aileen,  when  she  read  it,  " there 
you  have  it."  These  politicians  were  trying  to  put  the 
blame  of  their  own  evil  deeds  on  her  Frank.  He  was  not 
nearly  as  bad  as  he  was  painted.  The  report  said  so. 
She  went  over  the  lines  where  it  said,  "The  committee  can 
only  regard  the  prosecution  instituted  against  the  broker, 
Mr.  Cowperwood,  as  an  effort  to  divert  public  attention 
from  more  guilty  parties  while  those  concerned  may  be 
able  to  'fix'  matters  to  suit  themselves,"  with  the  most 
loving  care.  She  gloated  over  the  words  "an  effort 
to  divert  public  attention  from  more  guilty  parties." 
That  was  just  what  her  Frank  had  been  telling  her  in 
those  happy,  private  hours  when  they  had  been  together 
recently  in  one  place  and  another,  particularly  the 
new  rendezvous  in  South  Sixth  Street  which  he  had 
established,  since  the  old  one  had  to  be  abandoned.  He 
had  stroked  her  rich  hair,  caressed  her  body,  and  told  her 
it  was  all  a  prearranged  political  scheme  to  cast  the 
blame  as  much  as  possible  on  him  and  make  it  as  light  as 
possible  for  Stener  and  the  party  generally.  He  would 
come  out  of  it  all  right,  he  said,  but  he  cautioned  her 

482 


THE    FINANCIER 

carefully  not  to  talk.  He  did  not  deny  his  long  and 
profitable  relations  with  Stener.  He  told  her  exactly 
how  it  was.  She  understood,  or  thought  she  did. 
Anyhow,  her  Frank  was  telling  her,  and  that  was 
enough. 

In  the  Cowperwood  household — the  two  Cowperwood 
households — things  had  been  simmering  to  a  deadly 
cold.  The  life  was  going  out  of  them.  Frank  Algernon 
Cowperwood  was  that  life.  He  was  the  courage  and 
force  of  his  father,  the  spirit  and  opportunity  of  his 
brothers,  the  hope  of  his  children,  the  estate  of  his  wife, 
the  dignity  and  significance  of  the  Cowperwood  name.  All 
that  meant  opportunity,  force,  emolument,  dignity,  and 
happiness  to  those  connected  with  him,  he  was.  And 
his  marvelous  sun  was  waning  apparently  to  a  black 
eclipse. 

To  begin  with,  there  was  the  problem  of  Cowper- 
wood's  wife  and  his  two  children.  Since  the  fatal  morn 
ing  when  she  had  received  that  utterly  destructive  note, 
like  a  cannon-ball  ripping  through  her  domestic  affairs, 
Lillian  had  been  walking  like  one  in  a  trance.  Each  day 
now  for  weeks  she  had  been  going  about  her  duties  placidly 
enough  to  all  outward  seeming,  but  inwardly  she  was 
running  with  a  troubled  tide  of  thought.  She  was  so 
utterly  unhappy.  Her  fortieth  year  had  come  for  her, 
and  here  she  was  just  passing  into  the  time  when  a  woman 
ceases  to  be  interesting  to  men,  devoted  to  her  children, 
feeling  innately  that  life  ought  naturally  to  remain 
grounded  on  a  fixed  and  solid  base,  and  yet  torn  bodily 
from  the  domestic  soil  in  which  she  was  growing  and 
blooming,  and  thrown  out  indifferently  in  the  blistering 
noonday  sun  of  circumstance  to  wither.  You  have  seen 
fish  caught  ruthlessly  in  a  net  and  cast  indifferently  on 
a  sandy  shore  to  die.  They  have  no  value  save  to  those 
sea-feeding  buzzards  which  sit  on  the  shores  of  some 
coasts  and  wait  for  such  food.  It  is  a  pitiable  spec 
tacle — a  gruesome  one;  but  it  is  life,  That  is  exactly 

483 


THE    FINANCIER 

the  way  life  works.  She  saw  in  this  turmoil  of  hurry  and 
work  and  conference  and  talk  that  her  husband's  affairs 
were  in  a  deadly  state  of  collapse.  The  newspapers  were 
full  of  the  news  of  the  panic  and  the  fire.  After  a  few  days 
they  were  full  of  the  failure  or  suspension  of  Frank  Alger 
non  Cowperwood,  and  of  his  connection  with  the  city 
treasury.  Yet  a  few  days  more  and  the  reports  of  the 
Citizens'  Municipal  Reform  Association  began  to  appear 
in  the  papers.  These  openly  and  lucidly  indicated  Frank 
Algernon  Cowperwood  and  the  city  treasurer  as  con 
spiring  to  defraud  the  city,  though  later  this  very  com 
mittee  raised  the  question  whether  Cowperwood  was  not 
more  sinned  against  than  sinning.  She  had  seen  the  same 
item  that  Aileen  was  carrying  about  with  her.  It  was  a 
many-sided  problem.  Few  people  saw  but  more  than  an 
angle  or  a  facet  of  it  all.  Harper  Steger,  Cowperwood's 
lawyer,  was  actually  convinced  that  Cowperwood  had 
a  human,  if  not  a  moral  right  to  attempt  to  save  him 
self  as  he  had;  and  he  proposed,  if  Mollenhauer  and  the 
others  attempted  to  shoulder  the  blame  onto  Cowper 
wood,  and  make  a  legal  scapegoat  of  him,  to  burn  them 
up  argumentatively  before  a  jury.  (He  could  do  it,  too, 
for  he  had  a  bitter,  incisive,  argumentative  capacity.) 
But  to  Cowperwood's  wife  the  situation  was  like  a  ghastly 
maze  in  which  she  wandered  as  one  walking  in  her  sleep. 
Cowperwood  senior's  situation  at  his  bank  and  else 
where  was  rapidly  nearing  a  climax.  As  has  been  said, 
he  had  tremendous  faith  in  his  son  and  loyalty  to  him ;  but 
he  could  not  help  seeing  that  an  error  had  been  committed, 
as  he  thought,  and  that  Frank  was  suffering  greatly  for  it 
now.  He  considered,  of  course,  that  Frank  had  been  en 
titled  to  try  to  save  himself  as  he  had ;  but  he  so  regretted 
that  his  son  should  have  put  his  foot  into  the  trap  of  any 
situation  which  could  stir  up  discussion  of  the  sort  that  was 
now  being  aroused.  Frank  was  wonderfully  brilliant.  He 
need  never  have  taken  up  with  the  city  treasurer  or  the 
politicians  to  have  succeeded  marvelously.  Local  street- 

484 


THE    FI  NANCIER 

railways  and  speculative  politicians  were  his  undoing. 
Nevertheless,  it  was  all  over  now — the  possibility  of  recti 
fying  it.  The  milk  was  spilled.  The  old  man  walked  the 
floor  all  of  the  days,  realizing  that  his  sun  was  setting,  that 
with  Frank's  failure  he  failed,  and  that  this  disgrace — 
these  public  charges — meant  his  own  undoing.  His  hair 
was  very  gray,  his  step  slow,  his  face  pallid,  his  eyes 
sunken.  His  rather  showy  side- whiskers  looked  tremen 
dously  out  of  place  now.  They  seemed  like  flags  or  orna 
ments  of  a  better  day  that  was  gone.  His  only  consola 
tion  in  it  all  was  that  Frank  had  actually  got  out  of  his 
relationship  with  the  Third  National  Bank  without 
owing  it  a  single  dollar.  Still  the  directors  of  that  insti 
tution  realized  that  Frank  had  merely  cleared  up  every 
thing  here  in  order  to  save  his  father.  He  would  not 
have  done  so  if  his  father  had  not  been  there.  Anyhow, 
the  bank  could  not  possibly  tolerate  the  presence  of  a 
man  whose  son  had  helped  loot  the  city  treasury,  and 
whose  name  was  now  in  the  public  prints  in  this  con 
nection.  Besides,  Cowperwood,  Sr.,  was  too  old.  He 
ought  to  retire. 

The  crisis  came  for  him  when  Frank  was  arrested  on 
the  embezzlement  charge.  The  directors  wanted  Cow 
perwood,  Sr.,  to  have  sense  enough  and  courtesy  enough 
to  take  the  initiative  and  resign  at  once.  There  was 
absolutely  no  hope  of  his  remaining.  Adam  Davi, 
the  first  vice-president,  realized  it.  There  was  a  semi- 
concealed  light  of  triumph  in  his  eyes  on  the  day  the 
arrest  happened.  Cowperwood,  Sr.,  realized  that  his 
hour  had  struck.  He  saw  it  all  suggested  in  their  faces. 
He  hardly  had  the  courage  to  go  to  the  bank.  It  was 
like  struggling  under  the  weight  of  a  heavy  stone  to  do 
it.  Still  he  went;  but  he  wrote  his  resignation  the  next 
morning,  after  a  sleepless  night,  to  Frewen  Kasson,  the 
chairman  of  the  board  of  directors.  Nothing  had  been 
said  to  him.  He  wrote  Mr.  Kasson  to  come  in,  if  it  were 
possible,  on  this  morning,  and  then  he  told  him  in  a  vague, 

485 


THE    FINANCIER 

nervous  way  that  he  realized  that  this  failure  of  his  son 
had  done  the  bank — owing  to  his  connection  with  it — 
great  injury. 

"I  know,"  he  said,  strumming  with  his  thin,  white, 
bony  fingers  on  his  handsome  mahogany  desk,  which 
would  soon  be  his  no  longer,  "that  my  connection  with 
the  bank  now  is  a  serious  handicap  to  it." 

Frewen  Kasson,  a  short,  stocky,  well-built,  magnetic, 
attractive  man  of  fifty,  breathed  an  inward  sigh  of  relief. 
It  was  so  urgent  that  Cowperwood,  Sr.,  should  do 
this.  "I  have  been  with  it  now  nearly  thirty-eight 
years,"  Henry  Cowperwood  continued;  but  at  the  thought 
of  the  long,  long  years,  which  had  really  been  his  life, 
spent  with  this  one  institution,  his  voice  failed  him,  and 
he  got  up  and  went  to  the  widow.  A  suspicious  stiffen 
ing  of  the  shoulders  told  Mr.  Kasson  that  he  was  under 
going  a  great  inward  struggle,  and  the  latter  felt  sorry 
for  him.  He  came  back  after  a  time,  however,  and  sat 
down. 

"It's  hard;  it's  hard,"  he  said,  suddenly  rubbing  his 
hands  weakly;  and  he  got  up  again,  unable  to  speak. 

Mr.  Kasson  choked  slightly. 

"I  know  it  is,  Mr.  Cowperwood,"  he  said,  sympatheti 
cally.  "I  wish  you  wouldn't  try  to  talk  now.  I  know 
exactly  what  you  would  wish  to  say.  We — and  I  can 
speak  for  the  other  members  of  the  board,  for  although  we 
haven't  talked  about  it  as  yet,  I  know  how  they  feel — we 
feel  keenly  the  unfortunate  nature  of  your  position.  We 
know  exactly  how  it  is  that  your  son  has  become  involved 
in  this  matter.  He  is  not  the  only  banker  who  has  been 
involved  in  the  city's  affairs.  It  is  an  old  system.  We 
appreciate,  all  of  us,  keenly,  the  services  you  have  ren 
dered  this  institution.  They  have  been  notable  and  un 
broken.  If  there  were  any  possible  way  in  which  we 
could  help  to  tide  you  over  your  difficulties  at  this  time, 
we  would  be  glad  to  do  so;  but  as  a  banker  yourself  you 
realize  just  how  difficult  this  is  just  now.  Everything  is 

486 


THE    FINANCIER 

in  a  turmoil.  If  things  were  settled — if  we  knew  how  soon 
this  would  blow  over —  He  paused,  for  he  felt  that  he 
could  not  go  on  and  say  that  he  or  the  bank  was  sorry 
to  be  forced  to  lose  Mr.  Cowperwood  in  this  way  at 
present.  Mr.  Cowperwood  himself  would  have  to  speak. 

Cowperwood,  Sr.,  had  been  doing  his  best  to  pull  him 
self  together.  He  had  gotten  out  a  large  white  linen 
handkerchief  and  blown  his  nose,  and  he  had  straightened 
himself  in  his  chair,  and  laid  his  hands  rather  peacefully 
on  his  desk.  Still  he  was  intensely  wrought  up.  He 
didn't  attempt  to  speak  any  more.  Instead,  he  fished  in 
his  right  coat  pocket  for  his  very  hardly  concocted  letter 
of  resignation,  which  was  nicely  enveloped  and  addressed, 
and  handed  it  over  to  Mr.  Kasson. 

"I  can't  stand  this!"  he  suddenly  exclaimed.  "I  wish 
you  would  leave  me  alone  now." 

Mr.  Kasson,  very  carefully  dressed  and  manicured, 
arose  and  walked  out  of  the  room  for  a  few  moments. 
The  moment  the  door  was  closed  Cowperwood  put  his 
head  in  his  hands  and  shook  and  shook  convulsively. 
"I  never  thought  I'd  come  to  this,"  he  said.  "I  never 
thought  it."  Then  he  wiped  away  his  salty  hot  tears,  and 
went  to  the  window  once  more  to  recover.  It  was  a  ter 
rible  day  and  a  terrible  siege  for  him. 


CHAPTER  XLV 

IT  was  with  this  general  atmosphere  prevailing  that  the 
time  was  drifting  toward  that  uncertain  December 
5,  1871,  the  day  set  apart  on  the  court  docket  for  Cow- 
perwood's  trial.  Aileen  had  been  periodically  bringing 
him  news  concerning  the  attitude  of  her  father,  which 
made  it  perfectly  clear  that  Butler  was  not  through  with 
him,  and  would  not  be,  in  all  likelihood,  unless  he  chose 
to  leave  Philadelphia  permanently,  or  unless  Butler 
should  die.  The  election  being  over  and  Stener  and 
Cowperwood  properly  indicted,  and  Butler's  young  pro 
tege,  Dennis  Shannon,  elected  to  the  office  of  district  at 
torney  (in  which  direction  it  was  plain  to  Cowperwood 
that  great  injury  might  be  done  him),  the  old  man  was  de 
termined  to  find  some  additional  thing  which  would  further 
his  campaign  against  the  young  banker  and  result  in 
eliminating  him  from  the  city  and  the  life  of  Aileen  en 
tirely.  One  thing  that  occurred  to  him  was  the  fact  that 
the  particular  Judge  Payderson  to  whose  court  Cowper- 
wood's  case  had  been  assigned  was  one  of  those  judges 
who  owed  his  position  to  the  influence  of  the  politicians. 
Payderson  should  be  given  an  opportunity  to  learn  that 
Cowperwood  was  deserving  of  punishment.  Beyond 
Payderson  lay  the  State  Supreme  Court  and  the  gover 
nor,  where  Butler's  word,  or  the  fact  that  he  had  been 
injured  by  Cowperwood,  would  be  of  great  weight.  He 
need  not  speak  directly — but  there  were  plenty  who 
would  talk  for  him. 

The  plan  of  buying  out  some  of  Cowperwood's  credi 
tors — particularly  those  who  held  street-railway  stocks — 
had  remained  in  Butler's  mind  and  finally  been  acted 

488 


THE    FINANCIER 

upon.  Cowperwood  had  been  offering  only  fifty  cents 
on  the  dollar  in  notes  at  one,  two,  and  three  years  (and 
that  by  the  courtesy  of  some  of  his  financial  friends  who 
proposed  to  assist  him  to  take  them  up  at  maturity), 
but  the  creditors  would  not  accept  it.  Butler  was  ready 
to  offer  them  cash,  and  more  than  fifty  cents,  when  neces 
sary,  which  would  give  him  a  voice  in  the  matter  of  Cow- 
perwood's  resumption;  for,  as  every  business  man  knows, 
no  business  can  be  resumed  without  the  full  consent  of 
all  creditors.  In  order  that  Cowperwood  might  not 
know  at  the  time  that  these  holdings  were  transferred, 
Butler  had  them  taken  over  by  a  small  bank  in  which  he 
was  secretly  interested  and  carried  on  its  books  as  be 
longing  to  it.  Butler  then  had  the  feeling  that,  if  Cow 
perwood  wished  to  resume,  he  would  have  to  pay  dollar 
for  dollar  for  the  stock — which  was  considerable — or 
remain  a  bankrupt. 

In  addition  Butler  was  planning  some  move  in  his  own 
home  which,  without  causing  him  to  tell  his  wife  what 
the  trouble  was,  would  bring  about  the  elimination  of 
Aileen  from  the  situation,  locally  speaking.  As  time  went 
on  he  grew  more  and  more  puzzled  and  restive  as  to  his 
duty  in  regard  to  her.  He  was  sure  by  her  furtive  man 
ner,  her  lack  of  frankness,  and  apparent  desire  to  avoid 
him,  that  she  was  still  in  touch  with  Cowperwood  in  some 
way,  and  that  this  would  bring  about  a  social  disaster 
of  some  kind.  He  thought  once  of  going  to  Mrs.  Cow 
perwood  and  having  her  bring  pressure  to  bear  on  her 
husband;  but  he  decided  that  would  not  do.  He  was 
not  really  positive  as  yet  that  Aileen  was  secretly  having 
to  do  with  Cowperwood;  and,  besides,  Mrs.  Cowperwood 
might  not  know  of  her  husband's  duplicity.  He  thought 
also  of  going  to  Cowperwood  personally  and  threatening 
him;  but  that  would  be  a  severe  measure,  and  again,  as 
in  the  other  case,  he  lacked  proof.  He  hesitated  to  ap 
peal  to  a  public  detective  agency  on  account  of  Aileen, 
and  he  did  not  care  to  take  the  other  members  of  the 

489 


THE    FINANCIER 

family  into  his  confidence.  He  did  go  out  and  scan  the 
neighborhood  of  931  North  Tenth  Street  once,  looking  at 
the  house;  but  that  helped  him  little.  Cowperwood  had 
already  abandoned  his  connection  with  that,  and  the 
place  was  for  rent.  Butler  finally  hit  upon  the  plan  of 
having  Aileen  invited  to  go  somewhere  some  distance  off 
— Boston  or  New  Orleans,  where  a  sister  of  his  wife  lived. 
It  was  a  delicate  matter  to  engineer,  and  in  such  matters 
he  was  not  exactly  the  soul  of  tact;  but  he  undertook  it. 
He  wrote  once  personally  to  his  wife's  sister  at  New 
Orleans,  and  asked  her  if  she  would  not,  without  indicating 
in  any  way  that  she  had  heard  from  him,  write  his  wife 
and  ask  if  she  would  not  permit  Aileen  to  come  and  visit 
her,  writing  Aileen  an  invitation  at  the  same  time ;  but  he 
tore  the  letter  up.  A  little  later  he  learned  acciden 
tally  that  Mrs.  Mollenhauer  and  her  three  daughters, 
Caroline,  Felicia,  and  Alta,  were  going  to  Europe  early  in 
December  to  visit  Paris,  the  Riviera,  and  Rome;  and  he 
decided  to  ask  Mollenhauer  if  he  would  persuade  his  wife 
to  invite  Norah  and  Aileen,  or  Aileen  only,  to  go  along, 
giving  as  an  excuse  that  his  own  wife  would  not  leave 
him,  and  that  the  girls  ought  to  go.  It  would  be  a  fine 
way  of  disposing  of  Aileen  for  the  present.  The  party 
was  to  be  gone  six  months.  Mollenhauer  was  glad  to 
do  so,  of  course.  The  two  families  were  fairly  intimate. 
Mrs.  Mollenhauer  was  willing — delighted  from  a  politic 
point  of  view — and  the  invitation  was  extended.  Norah 
was  overjoyed.  She  wanted  to  see  something  of  Eu 
rope,  and  had  always  been  hoping  for  some  such  op 
portunity.  She  was  not  particularly  interested  in  any 
one  place  abroad,  but  everything  over-sea  must  be  fine. 
Aileen  was  pleased  from  one  point  of  view  that  Mrs. 
Mollenhauer  should  invite  her;  years  before  she  would 
have  accepted  in  a  flash.  But  now  she  felt  that  it  only 
came  as  a  puzzling  interruption,  one  more  of  the  minor 
difficulties  that  were  tending  to  interrupt  her  relations 
with  Cowperwood.  She  immediately  threw  cold  water 

490 


THE    FINANCIER 

on  the  proposition,  which  was  made  one  evening  at 
dinner  by  Mrs.  Butler,  who  did  not  know  of  her  hus 
band's  share  in  the  matter,  but  had  received  a  call  that 
afternoon  from  Mrs.  Mollenhauer,  when  the  invitation 
had  been  extended. 

"She's  very  anxious  to  have  you  two  come  along,  if 
your  father  don't  mind,"  volunteered  the  mother,  "and 
I  should  think  ye'd  have  a  fine  time.  They're  going  to 
Paris  and  the  Riveera."  (This  was  Mrs.  Butler's  pro 
nunciation  of  the  Riviera.) 

"Oh,  fine!"  exclaimed  Norah.  "I've  always  wanted 
to  go  to  Paris.  Haven't  you,  Ai?  Oh,  wouldn't  that 
be  fine?" 

"I  don't  know  that  I  want  to  go,"  replied  Aileen, 
subtly,  who  saw  in  this  merely  another  untoward  slap  of 
fate,  a  trick.  She  did  not  care  to  compromise  herself 
by  showing  any  interest  at  the  start.  "It's  coming  on 
winter,  and  I  haven't  any  clothes.  I'd  rather  wait  and 
go  some  other  time." 

"Oh,  Aileen  Butler!"  exclaimed  Norah.  "How  you 
talk!  I've  heard  you  say  a  dozen  times  you'd  like  to  go 
abroad  some  winter.  Now  when  the  chance  comes — be 
sides  you  can  get  your  clothes  made  over  there." 

"Couldn't  you  get  somethin'  over  there?"  inquired 
Mrs.  Butler.  "Besides,  you've  got  two  or  three  weeks 
here  yet." 

"They  wouldn't  want  a  man  around  as  a  sort  of  a  guide 
and  advisor,  would  they,  mother?"  put  in  Callum,  at 
tempting  to  pick  a  chicken  wing  with  his  knife  and  fork. 
He  was  interested  in  Alta  Mollenhauer.  He  smiled  a 
quizzical  smile. 

"I  might  offer  my  services  in  that  capacity  myself," 
observed  Owen,  reservedly. 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  know,"  returned  Mrs.  Butler,  smil 
ingly,  chewing  a  lusty  mouthful.  "You'll  have  to  ast 
them,  my  sons." 

Aileen  still  persisted.  She  did  not  want  to  go.  It 

491 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

was  too  sudden.  It  was  this.  It  was  that.  Just  then 
old  Butler  came  in  and  took  his  seat  at  the  head  of  the 
table.  Knowing  all  about  it,  he  was  most  anxious  to 
appear  not  to. 

"You  wouldn't  object,  Edward,  would  you?"  queried 
his  wife,  explaining  the  proposition  in  general. 

"Object!"  he  echoed,  with  a  well  simulated  but  rough 
attempt  at  gaiety.  "A  fine  thing  I'd  be  doing  for  me- 
self — objectin'.  I'd  be  glad  if  I  could  get  shut  of  the 
whole  pack  of  ye  for  the  time." 

"What  talk  ye  have!"  said  his  wife.  "A  fine  mess 
you'd  make  of  it,  livin'  alone." 

"I'd  not  be  alone,  belave  me,"  replied  Butler,  stolidly. 
"There's  many  a  place  I'd  be  welcome  in  this  town — no 
thanks  to  ye." 

"And  there's  many  a  place  ye  wouldn't  have  been  if  it 
hadn't  been  for  me.  I'm  tellin'  ye  that,"  retorted  Mrs. 
Butler,  genially. 

"And  that's  not  stretchin'  the  troot  much,  aither,"  he 
answered,  fondly. 

Aileen  was  not  interested  in  this  by-play.  She  wanted 
to  escape  any  discussion  of  a  European  trip  now,  and  the 
subsequent  observations  and  arguments  on  this  matter, 
both  on  the  part  of  Norah  and  her  mother,  had  no  effect 
whatever.  She  was  adamant.  Butler  witnessed  the 
failure  of  his  plan  with  considerable  dissatisfaction;  but 
he  was  not  through.  He  wanted  Aileen  to  go,  and  he  was 
determined  to  make  her — go  somewhere,  anyhow.  He 
thought  once  of  speaking  to  her  about  the  matter — 
using  strong  words — but  he  realized  that  he  had  not 
sufficient  evidence  to  go  on.  The  mere  receipt  of  the 
letter  with  which  he  had  confronted  her  was  not  enough. 
She  had  denied  that.  The  possibility  of  watching  the 
house  at  931  North  Tenth  Street  was  gone — had  been 
the  moment  he  had  shown  her  the  letter.  He  should  have 
watched  that  first,  he  thought,  and  confirmed  the  letter. 
He  decided  after  a  while  to  employ  a  detective;  but  this 

492 


THE    FINANCIER 

was  not  until  all  hope  of  persuading  Aileen  to  accept  the 
Mollenhauer  proposition  had  been  abandoned.  When 
that  was  gone  and  Aileen  was  still  going  to  and  fro  in 
Philadelphia  as  careless  and  nonchalant  as  before,  he  be 
came  determined,  She  pretended  to  be  visiting  her 
friends,  many  of  whom  she  did  visit — social  personages 
whom  she  had  met  through  Cowperwood,  and  girls  who 
had  gone  to  school  with  her;  but  Butler  was  suspicious. 
She  rode,  drove,  and  visited  the  libraries  and  the  shops 
alone  or  with  her  mother;  but  he  was  haunted  with  the 
idea  that  she  might  be  with  Cowperwood.  Neither  he 
nor  his  sons,  if  he  had  been  inclined  to  take  them  into 
the  secret,  which  he  was  not,  could  watch  her  very  well, 
he  thought.  Her  movements  were  too  complicated.  It 
had  to  be  some  outside  agency;  and  he  wondered  which 
or  what  it  would  be. 

At  that  time,  owing  to  his  career  in  connection  with 
the  Civil  War  and  Abraham  Lincoln,  the  reputation  of 
William  A.  Pinkcrton,  of  detective  fame,  and  of  his 
agency  was  great.  The  man  had  come  up  from  poverty 
through  a  series  of  vicissitudes  to  a  high  standing  in  his 
peculiar  and,  to  many,  distasteful  profession;  but  to  any 
one  in  need  of  such  in  themselves  calamitous  services,  his 
very  famous  and  decidedly  patriotic  connection  with  the 
Civil  War  and  Abraham  Lincoln  was  a  recommenda 
tion.  He,  or  rather  his  service,  had  guarded  the  latter 
all  during  his  stormy  incumbency  at  the  executive  man 
sion.  There  were  offices  for  the  management  of  the  com 
pany's  business  in  Philadelphia,  Washington,  and  New 
York,  to  say  nothing  of  other  places.  Butler  was  familiar 
with  the  Philadelphia  sign,  but  did  not  care  to  go  to  the 
office  there.  It  was  too  local,  too  conspicuous.  He  de 
cided,  once  his  mind  was  made  up  on  this  score,  that  he 
would  go  over  to  New  York,  where  he  was  told  the  prin 
cipal  offices  were  located. 

He  made  the  simple  excuse  one  day  of  business,  which 
was  common  enough  in  his  case,  and  journeyed  to  New 

493 


THE    FINANCIER 

York — nearly  five  hours  away  as  the  trains  ran  then — 
arriving  at  two  o'clock.  With  much  caution  of  manner 
and  clearness  of  mind  he  found  the  principal  offices,  which 
were  in  lower  Broadway,  and  asked  to  see  the  manager. 
The  latter  he  found  to  be  a  large,  gross-featured,  heavy- 
bodied  man  of  fifty,  gray-eyed,  gray-haired,  puffily  out 
lined  as  to  countenance,  but  keen  and  shrewd,  and  with 
short,  fat-fingered  hands,  which  drummed  idly  on  his 
desk  as  he  talked.  He  was  dressed  in  a  suit  of  dark- 
brown  wool  cloth,  which  struck  Butler  as  peculiarly  showy, 
and  wore  a  large  horseshoe  diamond  pin.  The  old  man 
himself  invariably  wore  conservative  gray. 

"How  do  you  do?"  said  Butler,  when  a  boy  ushered 
him  into  the  presence  of  this  worthy,  whose  name  was 
Martinson — Gilbert  Martinson,  of  American  and  Irish  ex 
traction.  The  latter  nodded  and  looked  at  Butler  shrewdly, 
recognizing  him  at  once  as  a  man  of  force  and  probably 
of  position.  He  therefore  rose  and  offered  him  a  chair. 

"Sit  down,"  he  said  to  Butler,  studying  the  old  Irish 
man  from  under  thick,  bushy  eyebrows.  "What  can  I 
do  for  you?" 

"You're  the  manager,  are  you?"  asked  Butler,  solemn 
ly,  eying  the  man  with  a  shrewd,  inquiring  eye. 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  Martinson,  simply.  "That's  my 
position  here." 

"This  Mr.  Pinkerton  that  runs  this  agency — he  wouldn't 
be  about  this  place,  now,  would  he?"  asked  Butler,  care 
fully.  "I'd  like  to  talk  to  him  personally,  if  I  might, 
meaning  no  offense  to  you." 

"Mr.  Pinkerton  is  in  Chicago  at  present,"  replied  Mr. 
Martinson.  "I  don't  expect  him  back  for  a  week  or  ten 
days.  You  can  talk  to  me,  though,  with  the  same  con 
fidence  that  you  could  to  him.  I'm  the  responsible  head 
here.  However,  you're  the  best  judge  of  that." 

Butler  debated  with  himself  in  silence  for  a  few  mo 
ments,  estimating  the  man  before  him.  "Are  you  a 
family  man  yourself?"  he  finally  asked,  oddly, 

494 


THE    FINANCIER 

"Yes,  sir,  I'm  married,"  replied  Mr.  Martinson,  solemn 
ly.  "I  have  a  wife  and  two  children." 

Butler  blinked  his  eyes;  and  Martinson,  from  long  ex 
perience,  conceived  by  this  that  it  must  be  some  matter 
of  family  misconduct — a  son,  daughter,  wife — which  had 
brought  Butler  here.  Such  cases  as  that  were  not  in 
frequent. 

1 '  I  thought  I  would  like  to  talk  to  Mr.  Pinkerton  him 
self,  but  if  you're  the  responsible  head—  Butler  paused 
and  looked  at  Mr.  Martinson  again. 

"I  am,"  replied  the  latter.  "You  can  talk  to  me  with 
the  same  freedom  that  you  could  to  Mr.  Pinkerton. 
Won't  you  come  into  my  private  office?  We  can  talk 
more  at  ease  in  there." 

He  led  the  way  into  an  adjoining  room  which  had 
two  windows  looking  down  into  Broadway;  an  oblong 
table,  heavy,  brown,  smoothly  polished;  four  leather- 
backed  chairs;  and  some  pictures  of  the  Civil  War  battles, 
in  which  the  North  had  been  victorious.  Butler  followed 
doubtfully.  He  hated  very  much  to  take  any  one  into 
his  confidence  in  regard  to  Aileen.  He  was  not  sure  that 
he  would,  even  at  present.  He  wanted  to  "look  these 
fellys  over,"  as  he  said  in  his  mind.  He  would  decide 
then  what  he  wanted  to  do.  He  went  to  one  of  the  win 
dows  and  looked  down  into  the  street,  where  there  was  a 
perfect  swirl  of  omnibuses  and  vehicles  of  all  sorts.  Mr. 
Martinson  quietly  closed  the  door. 

"Now  then,  if  there's  anything  I  can  do  for  you,  Mr. — " 
Martinson  paused.  He  thought  by  this  little  trick  to 
elicit  Butler's  real  name — it  often  "worked" — but  in  this 
instance  the  name  was  not  forthcoming.  Butler  was  too 
shrewd. 

"I'm  not  so  sure  that  I  want  to  go  into  this,"  said  the 
old  man,  solemnly.  "Certainly  not  if  there's  any  risk 
of  the  thing  not  being  handled  in  the  right  way.  There's 
somethin'  I  want  to  find  out  about — somethin.'  that  I 
ought  to  know;  but  it's  a  very  private  matter  with  me, 

495 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

and — "     He  paused  to  think  and  conjecture,  looking  at 
Mr.    Martinson  the  while.     The  latter  understood  his 
peculiar  state  of  mind.     He  had  seen  many  such  cases. 
"Let  me  say  right  here,  to  begin  with,  Mr. — " 
"Scanlon,"  interpolated  Butler,  easily;  " that's  as  good 
a  name  as  any  if  you  want  to  use  one.     I'm  keepin'  me 
own  to  meself  for  the  present." 

"Scanlon,"  continued  Martinson,  easily.  "I  really 
don't  care  whether  this  is  your  right  name  or  not.  I 
was  just  going  to  say  that  it  might  not  be  necessary  to 
have  your  right  name  under  any  circumstance — it  all 
depends  upon  what  you  want  to  know.  But,  so  far 
as  your  private  affairs  are  concerned,  they  are  as  safe 
with  us,  this  agency,  as  if  you  had  never  told  them  to 
any  one.  Our  business  is  built  upon  confidence,  and  we 
never  betray  it.  We  wouldn't  dare.  We  have  men  and 
women  who  have  been  in  our  employ  for  over  thirty 
years,  and  we  never  retire  any  one  except  for  cause,  and 
we  don't  pick  people  who  are  likely  to  need  to  be  retired 
for  cause.  Mr.  Pinkerton  is  a  good  judge  of  men.  There 
are  others  here  who  consider  that  they  are.  We  handle 
over  ten  thousand  separate  cases  in  all  parts  of  the  United 
States  every  year.  We  work  on  a  case  only  so  long  as  we 
are  wanted.  We  seek  to  find  out  only  such  things  as  our 
customers  want.  We  do  not  pry  unnecessarily  into  any 
body's  affairs.  When  we  think  we  have  found  out  what 
you  want,  or  decide  that  we  cannot  find  out  for  you,  we 
are  the  first  to  say  so.  Many  cases  are  rejected  right  here 
in  this  office  before  we  ever  begin.  Yours  might  be  such 
a  one.  We  don't  want  cases  merely  for  the  sake  of 
having  them,  and  we  are  frank  to  say  so.  Some  matters 
that  involve  public  policy,  or  some  form  of  small  per 
secution,  we  don't  touch  at  all — we  won't  be  a  party  to 
them.  You  can  see  how  that  is.  You  look  to  me  to  be 
a  man  of  the  world.  I  hope  I  am  one.  Does  it  strike 
you  that  an  organization  that  has  attained  to  the  stand 
ing  that  we  have  would  be  in  the  business  of  betraying 

496 


THE    FI  NANCI  ER 

any  one's  confidence?"  He  paused  and  looked  at  Butler 
for  confirmation  of  what  he  had  just  said. 

"It  wouldn't  seem  likely,"  said  the  latter;  "that's  the 
truth.  It's  not  aisy  to  bring  your  private  affairs  into  the 
light  of  day,  though,"  added  the  old  man,  sadly. 

They  both  rested. 

"Well,"  said  Butler,  finally,  "you  look  to  me  to  be 
all  right,  and  I'd  like  some  advice.  Mind  ye,  I'm  willing 
to  pay  for  it  well  enough ;  and  it  isn't  anything  that  '11 
be  very  hard  to  find  out.  I  want  to  know  whether  a 
certain  man  where  I  live  is  goin'  with  a  certain  woman, 
and  where.  You  could  find  that  out  aisy  enough,  I  be- 
lave — couldn't  you?" 

"Nothing  easier,"  replied  Mr.  Martinson.  "We  are 
doing  it  all  the  time.  We  simply  appoint  some  man  or 
woman,  or  some  men  or  women,  whom  we  trust  to  watch 
the  houses,  stores,  offices,  and  places  of  amusement  of 
those  whom  we  wish  to  find  out  about.  It  doesn't  take 
long,  as  a  rule.  You  might  do  it  yourself,  if  you  had 
people  whom  you  could  trust." 

"That's  just  the  point,"  said  Butler.  "  It's  the  matter 
of  trusting  them.  I  have  the  people — plenty  of  them — • 
and  they'd  be  glad  enough  to  do  my  word;  but  I  don't 
trust  them  in  this  case.  I'd  rather  trust  outsiders  if  I 
could.  I've  heard  of  your  people  before." 

Mr.  Martinson  nodded  his  head  sagely.  "Let  me  see 
if  I  can  help  you  just  a  moment,  Mr.  Scanlon,  in  order 
to  make  it  easier  for  you.  It  is  very  plain  to  me  that 
you  don't  care  to  tell  any  more  than  you  can  help,  and  we 
don't  care  to  have  you  tell  any  more  than  we  absolutely 
need  to  assist  us  to  do  what  you  want.  We  will  have 
to  have  the  name  of  the  city,  of  course,  and  the  name  of 
either  the  man  or  the  woman;  but  not  necessarily  both 
of  them,  unless  you  want  to  help  us  in  that  way.  Some 
times  if  you  give  us  the  name  of  one  party — say  the 
man,  for  illustration — and  the  description  of  the  woman — 
an  accurate  one — or  a  photograph,  we  can  tell  you  after 

497 


THE    FINANCIER 

a  little  while  exactly  what  you  want  to  know.  Of  course, 
it's  always  better  if  we  have  full  information.  You  suit 
yourself  about  that.  Tell  me  as  much  or  as  little  as 
you  please,  and  I'll  guarantee  that  we  will  do  our  best 
to  serve  you,  and  that  you  will  be  satisfied  afterward. 
You  tell  me  now  or  not,  just  as  you  choose.  It's  all  the 
same  to  us." 

He  smiled  genially. 

Butler  felt,  all  things  considered,  that  he  was  in  the  hands 
of  a  rather  fair  man.  Like  most  men  of  affairs,  Cowper- 
wood  included,  he  was  mistrustful  of  people  in  general, 
looking  on  them  as  aimless  forces  rather  than  as  self- 
regulating  bodies,  though  he  was  nevertheless  religious- 
minded.  Nothing  save  the  will  of  God  could  save  any 
body  in  the  long  run,  Butler  thought;  but  you  were  in 
duty  bound  to  help  God  by  helping  yourself.  Such  was 
his  philosophy.  The  devil  represented  all  untoward 
forces  within  and  without  ourselves  which  made  people — 
weak  elements — do  the  strange  things  they  did.  He 
could  not  have  explained  life  any  better  than  that;  but 
in  a  rough  way  he  felt  that  he  was  serving  God  when  he 
did  his  best  to  punish  Cowperwood  and  save  Aileen. 

"Well,  that  bein'  the  case,"  said  Butler,  finally  taking 
the  leap,  with  many  mental  reservations,  however,  "I'll 
be  plain  with  you.  My  name's  not  Scanlon.  It's 
Butler.  I  live  in  Philadelphy.  There's  a  man  there,  a 
banker  by  the  name  of  Cowperwood — Frank  A.  Cowper 
wood — " 

"Wait  a  moment,"  said  Martinson,  drawing  an  ample 
pad  out  of  his  pocket  and  producing  a  lead-pencil;  "I 
want  to  get  that.  How  do  you  spell  it?" 

Butler  told  him. 

"Yes;  now  go  on." 

"He  has  a  place  in  Third  Street — Frank  A.  Cowper 
wood — any  one  can  show  you  where  it  is.  He's  just 
failed  there  recently." 

"Oh,  that's  the  man,"  interpolated  Martinson.  "I've 

498 


THE    FINANCIER 

heard  of  him.  He's  mixed  up  in  some  city  embezzlement 
case  over  there.  I  suppose  the  reason  you  didn't  go  to 
our  Philadelphia  office  is  because  you  didn't  want  our 
local  men  over  there  to  know  anything  about  it.  Isn't 
that  it?" 

"That's  the  man,  and  that's  the  reason,"  said  Butler, 
answering  both  questions  at  once.  "I  don't  care  to  have 
anything  of  this  known  in  Philadelphy.  That's  why  I'm 
here.  This  man  has  a  house  on  Girard  Avenue — Nineteen- 
thirty-seven.  You  can  find  that  out,  too,  when  you  get 
over  there." 

"Yes,"  agreed  Mr.  Martinson. 

"Well,  it's  him  that  I  want  to  know  about — him — and 
a  certain  woman,  or  girl,  rather."  The  old  man  paused 
and  winced  at  this  necessity  of  introducing  Aileen  into 
the  case.  He  could  scarcely  think  of  it — he  was  so  fond 
of  her. .  He  had  been  so  proud  of  Aileen.  A  dark,  smol 
dering  rage  burned  in  his  heart  against  Cowperwood. 
To  think  he  should  have  given  him  so  much  trouble  and 
so  much  shame! 

"A  relative  of  yours — possibly,  I  suppose,"  remarked 
Martinson,  tactfully.  "You  needn't  tell  me  any  more — • 
just  give  me  a  description  if  you  wish.  We  may  be  able 
to  work  from  that."  He  saw  quite  clearly  what  a  fine 
old  citizen  in  his  way  he  was  dealing  with  here,  and  also 
that  the  man  was  greatly  troubled.  Butler's  heavy, 
meditative  face  showed  it.  "You  can  be  quite  frank  with 
me,  Mr.  Butler,"  he  added;  "I  think  I  understand.  We 
only  want  such  information  as  we  must  have  to  help  you, 
nothing  more." 

"Yes,"  said  the  old  man,  dourly.  "She  is  a  relative. 
She's  my  daughter,  in  fact.  You  look  to  me  like  a  sinsible, 
honest  man.  I'm  her  father,  and  I  wouldn't  do  anything 
for  the  world  to  harm  her.  It's  tryin'  to  save  her  I  am. 
It's  him  I  want."  He  suddenly  closed  one  big  fist  force 
fully. 

Mr.  Martinson,  who  had  two  daughters  of  his  own, 
499 


THE    FINANCIER 

observed  the  suggestive  movement.  It  told  more  plain 
ly  than  anything  Butler  could  say  how  keenly  the  old 
man  was  feeling,  and  he  sympathized  with  him.  Butler's 
emotion  came  across  to  him  like  a  breath  of  cold  air.  He 
must  love  this  daughter  very  much.  But  it  looked  bad 
for  Cowperwood,  Martinson  thought,  if  it  should  turn 
out  that  he  was  running  with  this  man's  daughter.  It 
was  a  bad  move  on  Cowperwood's  part.  He  was  rather 
sorry  for  him.  Still,  business  was  business. 

"I  understand  how  you  feel,  Mr.  Butler,"  he  observed. 
"I  am  a  father  myself.  We'll  do  all  we  can  for  you. 
If  you  can  give  me  an  accurate  description  of  her,  or  let 
one  of  my  men  see  her  at  your  house  or  office,  acciden 
tally,  of  course,  I  think  we  can  tell  you  in  no  time  at  all 
if  they  are  meeting  with  any  regularity.  That's  all  you 
want  to  know,  is  it — just  that?" 

"That's  all,"  said  Butler,  solemnly. 

"Well,  that  oughtn't  to  take  any  time  at  all,  Mr.  Butler 
— three  or  four  days  possibly,  if  we  have  any  luck — a 
week,  ten  days,  two  weeks.  It  depends  on  how  long  you 
want  us  to  shadow  him  in  case  there  is  no  evidence  the 
first  few  days." 

"I  want  to  know,  however  long  it  takes,"  replied  Butler, 
bitterly.  "I  want  to  know,  if  it  takes  a  month  or  two 
months  or  three  to  find  out.  I  want  to  know."  The  old 
man  got  up  as  he  said  this,  very  positive,  very  rugged. 
Mr.  Martinson  was  quite  astonished  at  the  force  and 
vigor  of  him.  "And  don't  send  me  men  that  haven't 
sinse — lots  of  it,  plase.  I  want  men  that  are  fathers, 
if  you've  got  'em — and  that  have  sinse  enough  to  hold 
their  tongues — not  b'ys."  He  fairly  glared  at  Martinson, 
making  the  latter  feel  the  significance  of  all  this  to  him. 

Martinson  nodded. 

"I  understand,  Mr.  Butler,"  he  replied.  "Depend  on 
it,  you'll  have  the  best  we  have,  and  you  can  trust  them. 
They'll  be  discreet.  You  can  depend  on  that.  The  way 
I'll  do  will  be  to  assign  just  one  man  to  the  case  at  first, 

500 


THE    FINANCIER 

some  one  whom  you  can  see  for  yourself  whether  you  like 
or  not.  I'll  not  tell  him  anything.  You  can  talk  to  him. 
If  you  like  him,  tell  him,  and  he'll  do  the  rest.  Then,  if 
he  needs  any  more  help,  he  can  get  it.  What  is  your 
address?" 

Butler  gave  it  to  him. 

"And  there'll  be  no  talk  about  this?" 

"None  whatever — I  assure  you." 

"And  when  '11  he  be  comin'  along?" 

''To-morrow,  if  you  wish.  I  have  a  man  whom  I 
could  send  to-night.  He  isn't  here  now  or  I'd  have  him 
talk  with  you.  I'll  talk  to  him,  though,  and  make  every 
thing  clear.  You  needn't  worry  about  anything.  Your 
daughter's  reputation  will  be  safe  in  his  hands." 

"Thank  you  kindly,"  commented  Butler,  softening  the 
least  bit  in  a  gingerly  way.  "I'm  much  obliged  to  you. 
I'll  take  it  as  a  great  favor,  and  pay  you  well." 

"Never  mind  about  that,  Mr.  Butler,"  replied  Martin 
son.  "You're  welcome  to  anything  this  concern  can  do 
for  you  at  its  ordinary  rates." 

He  showed  Butler  to  the  door,  and  the  old  man  went 
out.  He  was  feeling  very  depressed  over  this — very 
shabby.  To  think  he  should  have  to  put  detectives  on 
the  track  of  his  Aileen,  his  daughter!  Still,  he  thought, 
he  would  know  positively  if  what  she  said  were  untrue 
or  not;  and  that  would  help  him  to  adjust  matters  with  her 
finally.  He  could  not  think  of  reforming  her  really  un 
less  he  knew,  and  now  he  would  know. 

He  returned  to  Philadelphia  at  once. 


CHAPTER  XLVI 

THE  business  of  establishing  Aileen's  relationship  to 
Cowperwood  was  quickly  undertaken  and  com 
pleted.  The  very  next  day  there  called  at  Butler's  office 
from  New  York  a  long,  lean,  preternaturally  solemn  man 
of  noticeable  height  and  angularity,  dark-haired,  dark- 
eyed,  sallow,  with  a  face  that  was  long  and  leathery,  and 
particularly  hawk-like,  who  talked  with  Butler  for  over 
an  hour  and  then  departed.  That  evening  he  came  to  the 
Butler  house  around  dinner-time,  and,  being  shown  into 
Butler's  room,  was  given  a  look  at  Aileen  by  a  ruse.  Butler 
sent  for  her  while  he  was  in  there.  Aileen  came  quickly. 
As  it  was  planned  between  the  detective  and  Butler,  the 
latter  stood  in  the  door  just  far  enough  to  one  side  to 
prevent  Aileen  from  coming  in,  but,  nevertheless,  to 
yield  a  good  view  of  her.  The  detective  stood  behind 
one  of  the  heavy  curtains  which  had  already  been  put 
up  for  the  winter,  pretending  to  look  out  into  the  street. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  he  was  watching  the  door  between 
the  folds  which  almost  concealed  him. 

"Did  any  one  drive  Sissy  this  mornin'?"  asked  Butler 
of  Aileen,  inquiring  after  a  favorite  family  horse.  Butler's 
plan,  in  case  the  detective  was  seen,  was  to  give  the  im 
pression  that  he  was  a  horseman  who  had  come  either  to 
buy  or  to  sell.  His  name  was  Jonas  Alderson,  and  he 
looked  sufficiently  like  a  horse-trader  to  be  one. 

"I  don't  think  so,  father,"  replied  Aileen.  "I  didn't. 
I'll  find  out." 

"  Never  mind.  What  I  want  to  know  is  did  you  intend 
using  her  to-morrow?" 

502 


THE    FINANCIER 

"  No,  not  if  you  want  her.  Jerry  suits  me  just  as  well." 
She  was  referring  to  another  horse. 

"Very  well,  then.  Leave  her  in  the  stable."  Butler 
quietly  closed  the  door.  Aileen  concluded  at  once  that 
it  was  a  horse  conference.  She  knew  he  would  not  dis 
pose  of  any  horse  in  which  she  was  interested  without 
first  consulting  her,  and  so  she  thought  no  more  about  it. 

After  she  was  gone  Alderson  stepped  out  and  declared 
that  he  was  satisfied.  "That's  all  I  need  to  know,"  he 
said.  "I'll  let  you  know  in  a  few  days  if  I  find  out  any 
thing." 

He  departed,  and  within  thirty-six  hours  the  house  and 
office  of  Cowperwood,  the  house  of  Butler,  the  office  of 
Harper  Steger,  Cowperwood's  lawyer,  and  Cowperwood 
and  Aileen  separately  and  personally  were  under  com 
plete  surveillance.  It  took  six  men  to  do  it  at  first,  and 
eventually  a  seventh,  when  the  second  meeting-place, 
which  was  located  in  South  Sixth  Street,  was  discovered. 
All  the  detectives  were  from  New  York.  The  per 
sonalities  of  Aileen  and  Cowperwood  were  pointed  out 
to  each  detective  as  Alderson  introduced  him  to  the  case, 
and  then  the  watch  was  taken  up.  In  a  week  all  was 
known  to  Alderson.  It  had  been  agreed  between  him 
and  Butler  that  if  Aileen  and  Cowperwood  were  dis 
covered  to  have  any  particular  rendezvous  Butler  was 
to  be  notified  some  time  when  she  was  there,  so  that  he 
could  go  immediately  and  confront  her  in  person,  if  he 
wished.  He  did  not  intend  to  kill  Cowperwood — and 
Alderson  would  have  seen  to  it  that  this  should  not  be 
allowed;  but  he  would  give  him  a  good  tongue-lashing, 
fell  him  to  the  floor,  in  all  likelihood,  and  march  Aileen 
away.  There  would  be  no  more  lying  on  her  part  as 
to  whether  she  was  or  was  not  going  with  Cowperwood. 
She  would  not  be  able  to  say  after  that  what  she  would 
or  would  not  do.  Her  father  would  lay  down  the  law  to 
her.  She  would  reform,  or  he  would  send  her  to  a  re 
formatory.  Think  of  her  effect  on  her  sister,  or  on  any 

503 


THE    FINANCIER 

good  girl — knowing  what  she  knew,  or  doing  what  she 
was  doing!  She  would  go  to  Europe  after  this,  or  any 
place  he  chose  to  send  her. 

In  working  out  this  plan  of  action  the  detective  in  charge 
made  plain  his  determination  to  safeguard  Cowperwood's 
person.  It  was  one  of  the  rules  of  the  agency  that  no 
violence  must  be  permitted  in  any  case  of  this  kind  with 
which  they  were  connected.  Evidence,  yes;  but  no  vio 
lence. 

"We  couldn't  allow  you  to  strike  any  blows  or  do  any 
violence,"  Alderson  told  Butler,  when  they  first  talked 
about  it.  "It's  against  the  rules.  You  can  go  in  there 
on  a  search-warrant,  if  we  have  to  have  one.  I  can  get 
that  for  you  without  anybody's  knowing  anything  about 
your  connection  with  the  case.  We  can  say  it's  for  a  girl 
from  New  York.  But  you'll  have  to  go  in  in  the  presence 
of  my  men.  They  won't  permit  any  trouble.  You  can 
get  your  daughter  all  right — we'll  bring  her  away,  and 
him,  too,  if  you  say  so;  but  you'll  have  to  make  some 
charge  against  him,  if  we  do.  Then  there's  the  danger 
of  the  neighbors  seeing.  You  can't  always  guarantee 
you  won't  collect  a  crowd  that  way."  Butler  had  many 
misgivings  about  the  matter.  It  was  fraught  with  great 
danger  of  publicity.  Still  he  wanted  to  know.  He 
wanted  to  terrify  Aileen  if  he  could — to  reform  her 
drastically. 

Within  a  week  Alderson  learned  that  Aileen  and  Cow- 
perwood  were  visiting  an  apparently  private  residence, 
which  was  anything  but  that.  The  house  in  South  Sixth 
Street  was  one  of  assignation  purely;  but  in  its  way  it 
was  superior  to  the  average  institution  of  this  kind.  It 
was  of  a  high  order  of  refinement,  if  the  latter  word  may 
be  permitted  in  this  connection — of  red  brick,  white-stone 
trimmings,  four  stories  high,  and.  all  the  rooms,  some 
eighteen  in  number,  furnished  in  a  showy  but  cleanly  way. 
It  was  not  an  institution  of  general  but  rather  of  a  highly 
exclusive  patronage,  only  those  being  admitted  who  were 

504 


THE    FINANCIER 

known  to  the  mistress,  having  been  introduced  by  others. 
This  guaranteed  that  privacy  which  the  illicit  affairs  of 
this  world  so  greatly  require.  The  mere  phrase,  "I  have 
an  appointment,"  was  sufficient,  where  either  of  the 
parties  was  known,  to  cause  them  to  be  shown  to  an  ex 
clusive  suite  of  rooms,  where  they  could  await  the  com 
pletion  of  their  rendezvous  at  leisure.  Cowperwood  had 
known  of  the  place  from  previous  experiences,  and  when 
it  became  necessary  to  close  the  place  on  North  Tenth 
Street  he  had  directed  Aileen  to  meet  him  here. 

The  matter  of  entering  a  place  of  this  kind  and  trying 
to  find  any  one  was,  as  Alderson  informed  Butler  on 
hearing  of  its  character,  a  treacherous  matter.  It  in 
volved  the  right  of  search,  which  was  difficult  to  get.  To 
enter  by  sheer  force  was  easy  enough  in  most  instances 
where  the  business  conducted  was  in  contradistinction 
to  the  moral  sentiment  of  the  community;  but  some 
times  one  encountered  violent  opposition  from  the  ten 
ants  themselves.  It  might  be  so  in  this  case.  The  only 
sure  way  of  avoiding  such  opposition  would  be  to  take 
the  woman  who  ran  the  place  into  one's  confidence,  and 
by  paying  her  sufficiently  insure  silence.  "But  I  do  not 
advise  that  in  this  instance,"  Alderson  had  told  Butler, 
"for  I  believe  this  woman  is  particularly  friendly  to  your 
man.  It  might  be  better,  in  spite  of  the  risk,  to  take 
it  by  surprise."  To  do  that,  he  explained,  it  would  be 
necessary  to  have  at  least  three  men  in  addition  to  the 
leader — perhaps  four,  who,  once  one  man  had  been  able 
to  make  his  entrance  into  the  hallway,  on  the  door  being 
opened  in  response  to  a  ring,  would  appear  quickly  and 
enter  with  and  sustain  him.  Quickness  of  search  was 
the  next  thing — the  prompt  opening  of  all  doors.  The 
help  would  have  to  be  overpowered  and  silenced  in  some 
way.  Money  sometimes  did  this;  force  accomplished 
it  at  other  times.  Then  one  of  the  detectives  simulat 
ing  a  servant  could  tap  gently  at  the  different  doors — 
Butler  and  the  others  standing  by — and  in  case  a  face 

17  505 


THE    FINANCIER 

appeared  identify  it  or  not,  as  the  case  might  be.  If 
the  door  was  not  opened  and  the  room  was  not  empty, 
it  would  eventually  be  forced.  The  house  was  one  of  a 
solid  block,  so  that  there  was  no  chance  of  escape  save 
by  the  front  and  rear  doors,  which  were  to  be  safeguarded. 
It  was  a  daringly  conceived  scheme.  In  spite  of  all  this, 
secrecy  in  the  matter  of  removing  Aileen  was  to  be  at 
tained. 

When  Butler  heard  of  this  he  was  nervous  about  the 
whole  terrible  procedure.  He  thought  once  that  with 
out  going  to  the  house  he  would  merely  talk  to  his  daugh 
ter,  declaring  that  he  knew  and  that  she  could  not  pos 
sibly  deny  it.  He  would  then  give  her  her  choice  between 
going  to  Europe  or  going  to  a  reformatory.  A  sense  of 
the  raw  brutality  of  Aileen 's  disposition,  and  something 
essentially  coarse  in  himself,  made  him  adopt  the  other 
method  eventually.  He  told  Mr.  Alderson  to  perfect  his 
plan,  and  once  he  found  Aileen  or  Cowperwood  entering 
the  house  to  inform  him  quickly.  He  would  then  drive 
there,  and  with  the  assistance  of  these  men  confront  her. 

It  was  a  foolish  scheme,  a  brutalizing  thing  to  do, 
both  from  the  point  of  view  of  affection  and  any  correc 
tive  theory  he  might  have  had.  No  good  ever  springs 
from  violence — none.  But  Butler  did  not  see  that.  He 
wanted  to  frighten  Aileen,  to  bring  her  by  shock  to  a 
realization  of  the  enormity  of  the  thing  she  was  doing. 
He  waited  fully  a  week  after  his  word  had  been  given; 
and  then,  one  afternoon,  when  his  nerves  were  worn 
almost  thin  from  fretting,  the  climax  came.  He  sensed 
a  deadly  contest  with  his  daughter  in  case  he  tried  to 
carry  through  this  scheme  to  its  ultimate  conclusion- 
reformatory  and  all;  but  still  he  did  not  desist.  He 
really  wanted  to  know  definitely  for  himself. 

It  was  one  afternoon,  about  November  2oth,  when 
Cowperwood  was  most  busy  with  the  many  lawsuits  and 
other  things  that  were  troubling  him,  that  Butler  finally 
took  the  contemplated  action.  Cowperwood  had  already 

506 


THE    FINANCIER 

been  indicted,  and  was  now  awaiting  trial.  Aileen  had 
been  bringing  him  news,  from  time  to  time,  of  just  how 
she  thought  her  father  was  feeling  toward  him.  She  did 
not  get  this  evidence  direct  from  Butler,  of  course — he 
was  too  secretive,  in  so  far  as  she  was  concerned,  to  let  her 
know  how  relentlessly  he  was  engineering  Cowperwood's 
final  downfall — but  from  odd  bits  confided  to  Owen,  who 
had  confided  them  to  Callum,  who  in  turn,  innocently 
enough,  confided  them  to  Aileen.  She  could  see  that  her 
father  was  doing  something — just  what  or  how  much  she 
could  not  make  out.  It  was  irritating  her  greatly.  For 
one  thing,  she  had  learned  in  this  way  of  the  new  district 
attorney  elect — his  probable  attitude — for  he  was  a  con 
stant  caller  at  the  Butler  house  or  office,  and  Owen  had 
told  Callum  that  he  thought  Shannon  was  going  to  do 
his  best  to  send  Cowperwood  "up" — that  the  old  man 
thought  he  deserved  it.  Aileen  was  already  bitter 
against  her  father  for  this.  She  felt  it  was  because  of 
her  relation  with  Cowperwood,  and  nothing  more. 

In  the  next  place  she  learned  that  her  father  did  not 
want  Cowperwood  to  resume  in  business — did  not  feel 
he  deserved  to  be  allowed  to.  "It  would  be  a  God's 
blessing  if  the  community  were  shut  of  him,"  he  had  said 
to  Owen  one  morning,  apropos  of  some  notice  in  the 
papers  of  Cowperwood's  legal  struggles;  and  Owen  had 
asked  Callum  why  he  thought  the  old  man  was  so  bitter. 
The  two  sons  could  not  understand  it.  Callum  had  passed 
the  query  on  to  Aileen.  She  saw  the  point,  of  course. 
Cowperwood  heard  all  this  from  her,  and  more — bits  about 
Judge  Payderson,  the  judge  who  was  to  try  him,  who 
was  a  friend  of  Butler's — also  about  the  fact  that  Stener 
might  be  sent  up  for  the  full  term  of  his  crime,  but  that 
he  would  be  pardoned  out.  Aileen  could  not  learn 
that  anything  was  to  be  done  for  Cowperwood,  which 
enraged  her,  for  she  saw  from  what  Cowperwood  told  her 
that  there  was  a  conspiracy  on  to  "railroad"  him,  as  a 
new  term  had  it,  or  to  make  it  just  as  hard  for  him  as 

507 


THE    FINANCIER 

possible.  Apparently  Cowperwood  was  not  very  much 
frightened,  for  he  told  her  that  he  had  powerful  financial 
friends  who  would  appeal  to  the  governor  to  pardon  him 
in  case  he  was  convicted;  and,  anyhow,  that  he  did  not 
think  that  he  could  be  convicted.  The  evidence  was  not 
strong  enough.  He  was  merely  a  political  scapegoat 
through  public  clamor  and  her  father's  influence;  since 
the  latter's  receipt  of  the  letter  about  them  he  had  been 
the  victim  of  Butler's  enmity,  and  nothing  more.  "If  it 
weren't  for  your  father,  honey,"  he  declared,  "I  could 
have  this  indictment  quashed  in  no  time.  Neither  Mollen- 
hauer  nor  Simpson  has  anything  against  me  personally, 
I  am  sure.  They  want  me  to  get  out  of  the  street-rail 
way  business  here  in  Philadelphia,  and,  of  course,  they 
wanted  to  make  things  look  better  for  Stener  at  first; 
but  depend  upon  it,  if  your  father  hadn't  been  against 
me  they  wouldn't  have  gone  to  any  such  length  in  making 
me  the  victim.  Your  father  has  this  fellow  Shannon 
and  these  minor  politicians  just  where  he  wants  them, 
too.  That's  where  the  trouble  lies.  They  have  to 
go  on." 

"Oh,  I  know,"  replied  Aileen.  "It's  me,  just  me, 
that's  all.  If  it  weren't  for  me  and  what  he  suspects 
he'd  help  you  in  a  minute.  He  wouldn't  now  any  more, 
but  he  would  have.  Sometimes,  you  know,  I  think  I've 
been  very  bad  for  you.  I  don't  know  what  I  ought  to  do. 
If  I  thought  it  would  help  you  any  I'd  not  see  you  any  more 
for  a  while,  though  I  don't  see  what  good  that  would  do 
now.  Oh,  I  love  you,  love  you,  Frank !  I  would  do  any 
thing  for  you.  I  don't  care  what  people  think  or  say.  I 
love  you." 

"Oh,  you  just  think  you  do,  petty,"  he  replied,  jest 
ingly.  "You'll  get  over  it.  There  are  others.  But 
there's  no  use  crying  over  spilled  milk.  I  don't  see  what's 
to  be  done  about  this  right  now." 

"Others!"  echoed  Aileen,  resentfully  and  contemptu 
ously — she  was  foolish  about  this  financial  genius.  "After 

508 


THE    FINANCIER 

you  there  aren't  any  others.  They're  all  insipid.  They 
won't  do.  I  just  want  one  man,  my  Frank.  If  you  ever 
desert  me,  I'll  go  to  hell.  You'll  see.  You'll  be  the  cause." 

"Don't  talk  like  that,  Aileen,"  he  replied,  almost  irri 
tated.  "  I  don't  like  to  hear  you.  You  wouldn't  do  any 
thing  of  the  sort.  I  love  you.  You  know  I'm  not  going 
to  desert  you.  It  would  pay  you  to  desert  me  just  now." 

"Oh,  how  you  talk!"  she  exclaimed.  "Desert  you! 
It's  likely,  isn't  it?  But  if  ever  you  desert  me,  I'll  do 
just  what  I  say.  I  swear  it." 

"Don't  talk  like  that.     Don't  talk  nonsense." 

"I  swear  it.  I  swear  by  my  love.  I  swear  by  your 
success — my  own  happiness.  I'll  do  just  what  I  say. 
I'll  go  to  hell." 

Cowperwood  got  up.  He  was  a  little  afraid  now  of 
this  deep-seated  passion  he  had  aroused.  It  was  dan 
gerous.  He  could  not  tell  where  it  would  lead. 

Following  this  conversation  came  the  discovery  of 
Aileen  in  the  South  Sixth  Street  house,  which  the  employ 
ment  of  the  detective  agency  foreshadowed.  Butler  was 
in  his  office  on  the  afternoon  named  when  Alderson,  who 
had  been  informed  of  the  presence  of  Aileen  and  Cowper 
wood  by  the  detective  on  guard,  drove  rapidly  up  and 
invited  Butler  to  come  with  him.  The  latter  hurried  down 
in  a  most  perturbed  state  of  mind.  In  spite  of  the  letter 
and  Aileen's  guilty  eyes,  and  her  peculiarly  antagonistic 
attitude  toward  the  European  trip,  he  could  not  believe 
that  he  was  actually  to  find  her.  What  would  he  say  to 
her  if  he  did?  How  reproach  her?  What  would  he  do  to 
Cowperwood?  They  drove  rapidly  to  within  a  few  doors  of 
the  place,  and  a  second  detective  on  guard  across  the 
street  approached.  Butler  and  Alderson  descended  from 
the  vehicle,  and  together  they  approached  the  door. 
It  was  now  almost  four-thirty  in  the  afternoon.  In  a 
room  within  the  house,  Cowperwood  was  listening  to 
Aileen's  account  of  her  troubles.  Certainly  the  situation 
was  a  pressing  one,  and  it  must  be  met. 

509 


THE    FINANCIER 

"You  know  I  get  desperately  frightened,  sometimes," 
said  Aileen,  at  one  place  in  the  conversation  that  was 
going  on,  referring  to  her  father.  "He  might  be  watch 
ing  us,  you  know.  I've  often  wondered  what  I'd  do  if 
he  did.  I  couldn't  lie  out  of  this,  could  I?" 

"You  certainly  couldn't,"  said  Cowperwood,  who 
never  failed  to  respond  to  the  incitement  of  her  charms. 
She  had  such  lovely  smooth  arms,  a  full,  luxuriously 
tapering  throat  and  neck;  her  golden-red  hair  floated  like 
an  aureole  about  her  head,  and  her  large  eyes  sparkled. 
The  wondrous  vigor  of  a  full  womanhood  was  hers — 
errant,  ill-balanced,  romantic,  but  exquisite. 

"You  might  as  well  not  cross  that  bridge  until  you 
come  to  it,"  Cowperwood  continued.  "I  myself  have 
been  thinking  that  we  had  better  not  go  on  with  this  for 
the  present.  That  letter  ought  to  have  been  enough  to 
stop  us  for  the  time." 

He  came  over  to  where  she  stood  by  the  dressing- 
table,  adjusting  her  hair. 

"You're  a  pretty  minx,"  he  said.  "Don't  worry. 
There  isn't  anything  going  to  happen  here.  He  slipped 
his  arm  about  her  and  kissed  her  pretty  mouth.  "Noth 
ing  sweeter  than  you  this  side  of  Paradise,"  he  whispered 
in  her  ear. 

While  this  was  enacting,  Butler  and  the  extra  detec 
tive  had  stepped  out  of  sight,  to  one  side  of  the  front  door 
of  the  house,  while  Alderson,  taking  the  lead,  rang.  A 
negro  servant  appeared. 

"Is  Mrs.  Davis  in?"  he  asked,  genially,  using  the  name 
of  the  woman  in  control.  "I'd  like  to  see  her." 

"Just  come  in,"  said  the  maid,  unsuspectingly,  and 
indicated  a  reception-room  on  the  right.  Alderson  took 
off  his  soft,  wide-brimmed  hat  and  entered  it.  When 
the  maid  went  up-stairs  he  immediately  returned  to  the 
door  and  let  in  Butler  and  the  second  detective,  who  was 
now  accompanied  by  a  third.  The  four  stepped  into  the 
reception-room  unseen.  In  a  few  moments  the  ' '  madam , ' ' 


THE    FINANCIER 

as  the  current  word  characterized  this  type  of  woman, 
appeared. 

Those  who  are  at  all  familiar  with  the  underworld  may 
at  once  anticipate  a  type  which  will  not  be  far  wrong: 
of  good  height,  buxom,  usually  over  forty,  blonde — 
more  often  from  choice  than  from  nature — and  with  a 
specialized  wisdom  concerning  life  gathered  by  a  form 
of  contact  which  cannot  by  any  stretch  of  the  imagina 
tion  be  considered  pleasant.  This  particular  woman, 
Mrs.  Davis,  was  tall,  fair,  rugged,  and  not  at  all  unpleas 
ant  to  look  upon.  She  had  light-blue  eyes  and  a  genial 
smile.  Long  contact  with  the  police  and  the  brutalities 
of  sex  in  her  early  life  had  made  her  wary,  a  little  afraid 
of  how  the  world  would  use  her.  This  particular  method 
of  making  a  living  being  illicit,  and  she  having  no  other 
practical  knowledge  at  her  command,  she  was  as  anxious 
to  get  along  peacefully  with  the  police  and  the  public 
generally  as  any  struggling  tradesman  in  any  walk  of 
life  might  have  been.  She  had  on  a  loose,  blue-flowered 
peignoir  or  dressing-gown  open  at  the  front,  tied  with  blue 
ribbons  and  showing  a  little  of  her  expensive  underwear 
beneath.  A  large  opal  ring  graced  her  left  middle  finger, 
and  turquoises  of  vivid  blue  were  pendent  from  her  ears. 
She  wore  yellow-leather  slippers  with  bronze  buckles; 
and  altogether  her  appearance  was  not  out  of  keeping 
with  the  character  of  the  reception-room  itself,  which 
was  a  composite  of  gold-flowered  wall-paper,  blue  and 
cream-colored  Brussels  carpet,  heavily  gold-framed  en 
gravings  of  reclining  nudes,  and  a  gilt-framed  pier-mirror 
which  rose  from  the  floor  to  the  ceiling.  Needless  to  say 
that  Butler  was  shocked  to  the  soul  of  him  by  this  sug 
gestive  atmosphere  which  was  supposed  to  include  his 
daughter  in  its  destructive  reaches. 

Mr.  Alderson  motioned  one  of  his  detectives  to  get 
behind  the  woman — between  her  and  the  door — which 
he  did. 

"  Sorry  to  trouble  you,  Mrs.  Davis,"  he  said,  using  her 


THE    FINANCIER 

current  name,  "but  we  are  looking  for  a  couple  who  are 
in  your  house  here.  We're  after  a  runaway  girl.  We 
don't  want  to  make  any  disturbance — merely  to  get  her 
and  take  her  away."  Mrs.  Davis  paled  and  opened  her 
mouth.  "Now  don't  make  any  noise  or  try  to  scream, 
or  we'll  have  to  stop  you.  My  men  are  all  around  the 
house.  Nobody  can  get  out.  Do  you  know  anybody 
by  the  name  of  Cowperwood?" 

Mrs.  Davis,  fortunately  from  one  point  of  view,  was 
not  of  a  particularly  nervous  nor  yet  contentious  type. 
She  was  more  or  less  philosophic.  She  was  not  in  touch 
with  the  police  here  in  Philadelphia,  hence  subject  to  ex 
posure.  What  good  would  it  do  to  cry  out?  she  thought. 
The  place  was  surrounded.  There  was  no  one  in  the  house 
at  the  time  save  Cowperwood  and  Aileen.  She  did  not 
know  Cowperwood  by  his  name,  nor  Aileen  by  hers. 
They  were  a  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Montague  to  her. 

"I  don't  know  anybody  by  that  name,"  she  replied, 
nervously,  fearing  that  she  was  to  be  made  to  pay  severely 
for  her  unwitting  part  in  a  private  tragedy. 

"Isn't  there  a  girl  here  with  red  hair?"  asked  one  of 
Alderson's  assistants  who  had  been  on  guard,  and  who 
now  pushed  forward.  "And  a  man  with  a  gray  suit  and 
a  light-brown  mustache?  They  came  in  here  half  an 
hour  ago.  You  remember  them,  don't  you?" 

"There's  just  one  couple  in  the  house,  but  I'm  not  sure 
whether  they're  the  ones  you  want.  I'll  ask  them  to 
come  down,  if  you  wish.  Oh,  I  wish  you  wouldn't  make 
any  disturbance.  This  is  terrible." 

"We'll  not  make  any  disturbance,"  replied  Alderson, 
"if  you  don't.  Just  you  be  quiet.  We  merely  want  to 
see  the  girl  and  take  her  away.  Now,  you  stay  where 
you  are.  What  room  are  they  in?" 

"In  the  second  one  in  the  rear  up-stairs.  Won't  you 
let  me  go,  though?  It  will  be  so  much  better.  I'll  just 
tap  and  ask  them  to  come  out." 

"No.    We'll  tend  to  that.     You  stay  where  you  are. 
512 


THE    FINANCIER 

You're  not  going  to  get  into  any  trouble.  You  just  stay 
where  you  are,"  insisted  Alderson. 

He  motioned  to  Butler,  who,  however,  now  that  he 
had  embarked  on  his  grim  task,  was  thinking  that  he 
had  made  a  mistake.  Aileen  was  a  grown  woman  with 
a  will  of  her  own.  What  could  he  do  ?  What  good  would 
it  do  him  to  tap  personally  on  the  door  or  force  his  way 
in  and  make  her  come  out,  unless  he  intended  to  kill 
Cowperwood?  If  she  were  made  to  come  down  here, 
that  would  be  enough.  She  would  then  know  that  he 
knew  all.  He  did  not  care  to  quarrel  with  Cowperwood, 
he  now  decided,  in  any  public  way.  He  was  afraid  to. 
He  was  afraid  of  himself. 

"Let  her  go,"  he  said,  grimly,  doggedly.  "You  watch 
her.  Tell  the  girl  to  come  down-stairs  to  me." 

Mrs.  Davis,  realizing  on  the  moment  that  this  was 
some  family  tragedy,  and  hoping  in  an  agonized  way  that 
she  could  slip  out  of  it  peacefully,  started  at  once  with 
Alderson  and  his  assistants  at  his  heels.  They  ascended 
the  stairs,  and,  reaching  the  door  of  the  room  occupied 
by  Cowperwood  and  Aileen,  she  tapped  lightly.  At  the 
first  knock  Aileen  blanched  and  leaped  to  her  feet.  She 
was  usually  not  so  nervous;  but  to-day,  for  some  reason, 
she  anticipated  trouble.  Cowperwood's  eyes  instantly 
hardened,  losing  that  color  of  mirth  which  had  filled  them 
before. 

"Don't  be  nervous,"  he 'said,  "it's  nothing,  I  fancy. 
The  servant  wants  to  give  you  something.  I'll  go." 

He  started,  but  Aileen  interfered.  "Wait,"  she  said. 
Meanwhile  the  tap  came  again.  Then  she  went  to  the 
door  and  opened  it  the  least  bit. 

"Mrs.  Montague,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Davis,  in  an  ob 
viously  nervous,  forced  voice,  "there's  a  gentleman  down 
stairs  who  wishes  to  see  you!" 

"A  gentleman  to  see  me!"  exclaimed  Aileen,  astonished 
and  paling.  "Are  you  sure?" 

"Yes;  he  says  he  wants  to  see  you.     There  are  several 


THE    FINANCIER 

other  men  with  him.  I  think  it's  some  one  who  belongs 
to  you,  maybe." 

Aileen  realized  on  the  instant,  as  did  Cowperwood, 
what  had  in  all  likelihood  happened.  Butler  or  Mrs. 
Cowperwood  had  trailed  them — in  all  probability  her 
father.  He  wondered  what  he  should  do  to  protect  her. 
It  was  not  at  all  improbable  that  Butler  might  want  to 
kill  him;  but  that  did  not  disturb  him.  He  really  did 
not  pay  any  attention  to  that  thought,  and  he  was  not 
armed. 

"I'll  go  down,"  he  said,  when  he  saw  her  pale  face. 
"You  stay  here.  I'll  get  you  out  of  this — now,  don't  you 
worry.  This  is  my  affair.  Let  me  go  first." 

Aileen's  mind  was  working  like  a  rapidly  moving  ma 
chine.  She  was  wondering  whether  this  really  could  be 
her  father.  Perhaps  it  was  not.  Might  there  be  some 
other  Mrs.  Montague — a  real  one?  Supposing  it  was  her 
father — he  had  been  so  nice  to  her  in  not  telling  the  family, 
in  keeping  her  secret  thus  far.  He  loved  her — she  knew 
that.  It  makes  all  the  difference  in  the  world  in  a  child's 
attitude  on  an  occasion  like  this  whether  she  has  been 
loved  and  petted  and  spoiled,  or  the  reverse.  Aileen  had 
been  loved  and  petted  and  spoiled.  She  could  not  think 
of  her  father  doing  anything  terrible  physically  to  her  or 
to  any  one  else.  But  it  was  so  hard  to  confront  him — to 
look  into  his  eyes.  When  she  had  attained  a  proper 
memory  of  him,  her  fluttering  wits  told  her  what  to  do. 

"No,  Frank,"  she  whispered,  excitedly;  "if  it's  father, 
you'd  better  let  me  go.  I  know  how  to  talk  to  him.  He 
won't  say  anything  to  me.  If  it  is  he,  and  you  go  down, 
it  might  make  him  very  angry.  You  stay  here.  I'm 
not  afraid — really,  I'm  not.  If  I  want  you,  I'll  call  you." 

He  had  come  over  and  taken  her  pretty  chin  in  his 
hands,  and  was  looking  solemnly  into  her  eyes. 

"You  mustn't  be  afraid,"  he  said.  "I'll  go  down. 
If  it's  your  father,  you  can  go  away  with  him.  I  don't 
think  he'll  do  anything  either  to  you  or  to  me.  If  it  is 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

he,  write  me  something  at  the  office.  I'll  be  there.  If 
I  can  help  you  in  any  way,  I  will.  We  can  fix  up  some 
thing.  There's  no  use  trying  to  explain  this.  Say  noth 
ing  at  all." 

He  had  on  his  coat  and  overcoat,  and  was  standing  with 
his  hat  in  his  hand.  When  she  was  ready — hat,  gloves, 
and  all — he  said: 

"Now  let  me  go  first.     I  want  to  see." 

"No;  please,  Frank,"  she  begged,  courageously.  "Let 
me.  I  know  it's  father.  Who  else  would  it  be  ?  You  can 
come  if  I  call.  Nothing's  going  to  happen.  I  understand 
him.  He  won't  do  anything  to  me.  If  you  go  it  will  only 
make  him  angry.  Let  me  go.  You  stand  in  the  door  here. 
If  I  don't  call,  it's  all  right.  Will  you?" 

She  put  her  two  pretty  hands  on  his  shoulders,  and  he 
weighed  the  matter  very  carefully.  "Very  well,"  he  said, 
"only  I'll  go  to  the  foot  of  the  stairs  with  you." 

They  went  to  the  door,  and  he  opened  it.  Outside  were 
Mr.  Alderson,  Mr.  Slattery,  a  detective,  Mr.  Woywod,  a 
detective,  and  Mrs.  Davis,  standing  perhaps  five  feet 
away. 

"Well,"  said  Cowperwood,  commandingly,  looking  at 
Mr.  Alderson. 

"There's  a  gentleman  down-stairs  wishes  to  see  the 
lady, ' '  said  Alderson.  "It's  her  father,  I  think, ' '  he  added, 
quietly. 

Cowperwood  made  way  for  Aileen,  who  swept  by,  furi 
ous  at  the  presence  of  men  and  this  exposure.  Her  cour 
age  had  entirely  returned.  She  was  angry  to  think  her 
father  would  make  a  public  spectacle  of  her.  Cowper 
wood  started  to  follow. 

"I'd  advise  you  not  to  go  down  there -right  away," 
cautioned  Alderson;  sagely.  "  That's  her  father.  Butler's 
her  name,  isn't  it?  He  don't  want  you  so  much  as  he 
wants  her.  You  may  save  trouble." 

Cowperwood  nevertheless  walked  slowly  toward  the 
head  of  the  stairs,  listening. 


THE    FINANCIER 

"What  made  you  come  here,  father?"  he  heard  Aileen 
ask. 

Butler's  reply  he  could  not  hear. 

In  the  room,  confronted  by  Butler,  Aileen  was  now 
attempting  to  stare  defiantly,  to  look  reproachful. 
Butler's  deep,  shaggy  gray  eyes  beneath  their  brows 
revealed  a  weight  of  weariness  and  despair  which  she 
had  never  seen  there  before.  To  think  he  should  find 
his  daughter  here!  To  think  she  should  put  him  to  this 
shame !  He  shook  his  head  solemnly.  And  the  worst  of 
it  was  that  Aileen  obviously  did  not  realize  her  wretched 
state.  She  was  still  too  young,  too  foolish,  too  erratic, 
too  emotionally  strange.  Nevertheless,  she  was  his 
daughter. 

"I  never  expected  to  find  you  in  a  place  like  this, 
daughter,"  he  said,  when  she  appeared.  "I  should  have 
thought  you  would  have  thought  better  of  yourself." 

It  was  then  Aileen  asked :  "What  made  you  come  here, 
father?"  which  Cowperwood  heard.  She  carried  herself 
with  quite  an  air,  due  to  her  pumped-up  courage,  and 
her  anger,  which  she  felt  she  had  to  have  to  see  her 
through.  The  old  man,  in  spite  of  all  her  airs,  could  not 
be  angry,  save  against  Cowperwood.  He  was  too  sad. 

"I  know  who  you're  with,"  he  said,  shaking  his  head 
sadly.  "The  dog!  I'll  get  him  yet.  I've  had  men 
watchin'  you  all  the  time.  Oh,  the  shame  of  this  day! 
The  shame  of  this  day!  You'll  be  comin'  home  with  me 
now." 

"That's  just  it,  father,"  began  Aileen.  "You've  had 
men  watching  me.  I  should  have  thought — "  She 
stopped,  because  he  put  up  his  hand  in  a  strange,  ag 
onized,  and  yet  frightening  way. 

"  None  of  that !  none  of  that !"  he  said,  glowering  under 
his  strange,  sad  gray  brows.  "I  can't  stand  it!  Don't 
tempt  me!  We're  not  out  of  this  place  yet.  He's  not! 
You'll  come  home  with  me  now." 

516 


THE    FINANCIER 

Aileen  understood.  It  was  Cowperwood  he  was  re 
ferring  to.  That  frightened  her.  She  hushed  at  once. 

"I'm  ready,"  she  replied,  nervously. 

The  old  man  led  the  way  broken-heartedly.  He  felt 
he  would  never  live  to  forget  the  agony  of  this  hour. 


CHAPTER  XLVII 

IN  spite  of  Butler's  rage  and  his  determination  to  do 
many  things  to  the  financier,  if  he  could,  he  was, 
nevertheless,  so  wrought  up  and  shocked  by  the  attitude 
of  Aileen  that  he  could  scarcely  believe  he  was  the  same 
man  he  had  been  twenty-four  hours  before.  Aileen  was 
so  nonchalant,  so  defiant.  He  had  expected  to  see  her 
wilt  completely  when  confronted  with  her  guilt.  Instead, 
he  found,  to  his  despair,  after  they  were  once  safely  out 
of  the  house,  that  he  had  aroused  a  fighting  quality  in 
the  girl  which  was  not  incomparable  to  his  own.  She 
had  some  of  his  own  and  Owen's  grit.  She  sat  beside 
him  in  the  little  runabout — not  his  own — in  which  he 
was  driving  her  home,  her  face  coloring  and  blanching 
by  turns,  as  different  waves  of  thought  swept  over  her, 
determined  to  stand  her  ground  now  that  her  father  had 
so  plainly  trapped  her,  to  declare  for  Cowperwood  and 
her  love  and  her  position  in  general.  What  did  she  care, 
she  asked  herself,  what  her  father  thought  now?  What 
good  would  what  he  thought  do  her  ?  She  was  in  this  thing. 
She  loved  Cowperwood;  she  was  permanently  disgraced 
in  her  father's  eyes.  He  had  fallen  so  low  in  his  parental 
feeling  as  to  spy  on  her  and  expose  her  before  other  men 
— strangers,  detectives,  Cowperwood.  What  real  affec 
tion  could  she  have  for  him  after  this?  He  had  made  a 
mistake,  according  to  her.  He  had  done  a  foolish  and  a 
contemptible  thing,  which  was  not  warranted  however 
bad  her  actions  might  have  been.  What  could  he  hope 
to  accomplish  by  rushing  in  on  her  in  this  way  and  rip 
ping  the  veil  from  her  very  soul  before  these  other  men — 


TH  E    FI  NANCI  ER 

these  crude  detectives  ?  Oh,  the  agony  of  that  walk  from 
the  bedroom  to  the  reception-room!  She  would  never 
forgive  her  father  for  this — never,  never,  never!  He  had 
now  killed  her  love  for  him — that  was  what  she  felt.  It 
was  to  be  a  battle  royal  between  them  from  now  on;  he 
would  be  trying  to  make  her  do  one  thing,  and  she  wrould 
be  wanting  to  do,  and  would  be  doing,  another — depend 
on  that.  As  they  rode — in  complete  silence  for  a  while — 
her  hands  clasped  and  unclasped  defiantly,  her  nails 
cutting  her  palms,  and  her  mouth  hardened.  Never  had 
there  been  such  an  intense  and  bitter  look  of  opposition 
on  Aileen's  face.  It  was  really  hard  and  sad,  but  in 
tensely  defiant — a  look  that  was  to  be  seen  much  more 
frequently  in  later  years. 

It  is  an  open  question  whether  raw  opposition  ever  ac 
complishes  anything  of  value  in  this  world.  It  seems  so 
inherent  in  this  mortal  scheme  of  things  that  it  appears 
to  have  a  vast  validity.  It  is  more  than  likely  that  we 
owe  this  spectacle  called  life  to  it,  and  that  this  can  be 
demonstrated  scientifically;  but  when  that  is  said  and 
done,  what  is  the  value?  What  is  the  value  of  the  spec 
tacle  ?  And  what  the  value  of  a  scene  such  as  this  enacted 
between  Aileen  and  her  father  ? 

The  old  man  saw  nothing  for  it,  as  they  rode  on,  save 
a  grim  contest  between  them  which  could  end  in  what? 
What  could  he  do  with  her?  They  were  riding  away 
fresh  from  this  awful  catastrophe,  and  she  was  not  say 
ing  a  word!  She  had  even  asked  him  why  he  had  come 
there!  How  was  he  to  subdue  her,  when  the  very  act 
of  trapping  her  had  failed  to  do  so?  His  ruse,  while  so 
successful  materially,  had  failed  so  utterly  spiritually. 
They  reached  the  house,  and  Aileen  got  out.  The  old 
man,  too  nonplussed  to  wish  to  go  further  at  this  time, 
drove  back  to  his  office  with  the  strange  horse,  and  left 
it  to  be  called  for.  He  then  went  out  and  walked  by  him 
self — a  peculiar  thing  for  him  to  do ;  he  had  done  nothing 
like  that  in  years  and  years — walking  to  think.  Coming 

519 


THE    FINANCIER 

to  an  open  Catholic  church,  he  went  in  and  prayed  for 
enlightenment,  the  growing  dusk  of  the  interior,  the  single 
everlasting  lamp  before  the  repository  of  the  chalice, 
and  the  high,  white  altar  set  with  candles  soothing  his 
troubled  feelings.  What  should  he  do  about  Aileen? 
he  asked  his  God.  What  about  this  man  Cowper- 
wood?  Was  Aileen  to  blame  entirely,  or  Cowperwood, 
or  both?  They  had  both  acted  vilely.  But  Aileen! 

He  came  out  of  the  church  after  a  time  and  returned 
home.  Aileen  did  not  appear  at  dinner,  and  he  could 
not  eat.  He  went  back  into  his  private  room  after  a 
while  and  shut  the  door — thinking,  thinking,  thinking. 
The  dreadful  spectacle  of  Aileen  in  a  house  of  ill  repute 
burned  in  his  brain.  To  think  that  Cowperwood  should 
have  taken  her  there  of  all  places — his  Aileen,  convent- 
bred,  so  well  educated,  so  refined,  as  he  thought.  In 
spite  of  his  prayers,  his  uncertainty,  her  opposition,  the 
puzzling  nature  of  the  situation,  she  must  be  got  out  of 
this,  must  be  made  to  cease.  He  had  asked  her  before, 
and  she  had  lied.  Well,  she  could  not  lie  now.  She 
could  not  explain — there  was  nothing  to  explain.  She 
must  go  away  for  a  while,  give  the  man  up,  and  the  law 
would  run  its  course  with  him.  In  all  likelihood  Cowper 
wood  would  go  to  the  penitentiary — if  ever  a  man  richly 
deserved  to  go,  it  was  he.  Butler  would  see  that  no  stone 
was  left  unturned.  He  would  make  it  a  personal  issue, 
if  necessary.  All  he  had  to  do  was  to  let  it  be  known  in 
judicial  circles  that  he  wanted  it  so — was  convinced  of 
Cowperwood's  black  character — and  this  would  have  great 
weight.  He  could  not  suborn  a  jury,  that  would  be  crimi 
nal  ;  but  he  could  see  that  the  case  was  properly  and  force 
fully  presented;  and  if  Cownerwood  were  convicted,  Heav 
en  help  him.  The  appeal  ox  his  financial  friends  would  not 
save  him.  The  judges  of  the  lower  and  superior  courts 
knew  on  which  side  their  bread  was  buttered.  They 
would  strain  a  point  in  favor  of  the  highest  political 
opinion  of  the  day,  and  he  certainly  could  influence  that. 

520 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

He  had  never  been  so  grimly  determined  on  that  score 
as  he  was  now. 

Aileen  meanwhile  was  contemplating  the  peculiar 
nature  of  her  situation.  In  spite  of  their  silence  on  the 
way  home,  she  knew  that  a  conversation  was  coming 
with  her  father.  It  had  to  be.  He  would  want  her  to 
go  somewhere.  Most  likely  he  would  revive  the  European 
trip  in  some  form — she  now  suspected  the  invitation  of 
Mrs.  Mollenhauer  as  a  trick;  and  she  had  to  decide 
whether  she  would  go.  Would  she  leave  Cowperwood 
just  when  he  was  about  to  be  tried  ?  She  could  not.  She 
was  determined  she  would  not.  She  wanted  to  see  what 
was  going  to  happen  to  him.  She  would  leave  home  first 
— run  to  some  relative,  some  friend,  some  stranger,  if 
necessary,  and  ask  to  be  taken  in.  She  had  some  money — 
a  little.  Her  father  had  always  been  very  liberal  with  her. 
She  could  take  a  few  clothes  and  disappear.  They  would 
be  glad  enough  to  send  for  her  after  she  had  been  gone 
awhile.  Her  mother  would  be  frantic;  Norah  and  Cal- 
lum  and  Owen  would  be  beside  themselves  with  wonder 
and  worry;  her  father — she  could  see  him.  Maybe  that 
would  bring  him  to  his  senses.  In  spite  of  all  her  emo 
tional  vagaries,  she  was  the  pride  and  interest  of  this 
home,  and  she  knew  it. 

Notwithstanding  her  various  social  connections  and 
acquaintances,  the  people  to  whom  Aileen  could  run  in 
an  emergency  of  the  present  kind  were  not  numerous. 
She  could  scarcely  think  of  any  one  who  would  be  likely 
to  take  her  in  for  any  lengthy  period,  without  question. 
There  were  a  number  of  young  women  of  her  own  age, 
married  and  unmarried,  who  were  very  friendly  to  her, 
but  there  were  few  with  who*tv  she  was  really  intimate. 
The  only  person  who  stood  out  in  her  mind  as  having  any 
real  possibility  of  refuge  for  a  period  was  a  certain  Mary 
Calligan,  better  known  as  "Mamie"  among  her  friends, 
who  had  attended  school  with  Aileen  in  former  years 
and  was  now  a  teacher  in  one  of  the  local  schools. 

521 


THE    FINANCIER 

The  Calligan  family  was  limited,  consisting  of  Mrs. 
Katharine  Calligan,  the  mother,  a  dressmaker  by  pro 
fession  and  a  widow — her  husband,  a  house-mover  by 
trade,  having  been  killed  by  a  falling  wall  some  ten  years 
before — and  Mamie,  her  twenty-three-year-old  daughter, 
who  lived  in  a  small  two-story  brick  house  in  Cherry 
Street,  near  Fifteenth.  Mrs.  Calligan  was  not  a  very 
good  dressmaker,  not  good  enough,  at  least,  for  the  Butler 
family  to  patronize  in  their  present  exalted  state.  Aileen 
went  there  occasionally  for  gingham  house-dresses,  under 
wear,  pretty  dressing-gowns,  and  alterations  on  some  of 
her  more  important  clothing  which  was  made  by  a  very 
superior  modiste  in  Chestnut  Street.  Aileen  visited  the 
house  largely  because  she  had  gone  to  school  with  Mamie 
at  St.  Agatha's,  when  the  outlook  of  the  Calligan  family 
was  much  more  promising.  Since  then,  owing  to  the 
father's  death,  and  the  superior  change  in  Aileen's  social 
position,  she  had  not  seen  so  much  of  her,  and  the  mother 
and  daughter  had  not  done  so  well.  Mamie  was  earning 
forty  dollars  a  month  as  the  teacher  of  a  sixth-grade  room 
in  one  of  the  near-by  public  schools,  and  Mrs.  Calligan 
averaged  on  the  whole  about  two  dollars  a  day — some 
times  not  so  much.  The  house  they  occupied  was  their 
own,  free  and  clear,  and  the  furniture  which  it  contained 
suggested  the  size  of  their  joint  income,  which  was 
somewhere  near  eighty  dollars  a  month.  Mamie  Cal 
ligan  had  a  piano,  which  she  could  play  only  fairly  well; 
and  Mrs.  Calligan  had  a  comfortable  work-room  fitted 
with  the  implements  of  her  trade. 

In  this  crisis  it  was  to  the  home  of  the  Calligans  that 
Aileen  turned  in  thought.  If  her  father  really  was  not 
nice  to  her,  and  she  had  to  leave  home  for  a  time,  she 
could  go  to  the  Calligans.  They  would  receive  her  and 
say  nothing.  They  would  not  ask  her  too  many  ques 
tions.  They  were  not  sufficiently  well  known  to  the 
other  members  of  the  Butler  family  to  have  the  latter 
suspect  that  she  had  gone  there.  She  might  readily  dis- 

522 


THE    FINANCIER 

appear  into  the  privacy  of  Cherry  Street  and  not  be  seen 
or  heard  of  for  weeks.  The  Calligans  would  be  delighted 
to  have  her  until  she  could  make  up  her  mind  what  to 
do.  It  is  an  interesting  fact  to  contemplate  that  the 
Calligans,  like  the  various  members  of  the  Butler  family, 
never  suspected  Aileen  of  the  least  tendency  toward  a 
wayward  existence.  Hence  her  flight  from  her  own 
family,  if  it  ever  came,  would  be  laid  more  to  the  door  of 
a  lovely  temperamental  pettishness  than  anything  else. 


CHAPTER  XLVIII 

THE  decision  of  Butler  to  compel  Aileen  to  accept 
some  form  of  change  which  would  take  her  out  of 
Philadelphia  for  the  time  being — out  of  the  bosom  of 
the  family  where  he  so  much  loved  to  have  her — was, 
once  he  had  thought  it  all  over  and  made  up  his  mind, 
unalterable.  He  did  not  forget  that  Cowperwood  had 
been  properly  indicted  and  would  in  all  probability  be 
convicted — he  certainly  hoped  so;  but  even  that  did  not 
assure  him  that  Aileen  would  cease  her  relations  with  the 
banker.  Besides,  it  was  not  absolutely  certain  that  Cow 
perwood  would  not  be  acquitted;  and  in  that  case  he, 
Butler,  would  have  the  spectacle  of  his  erring  daughter 
continuing  relations  with  a  man  whom  respectable  people 
would  hereafter  not  care  to  know.  Aileen  must  be  got 
out  of  this  atmosphere,  got  out  soon,  whatever  happened ; 
and  since  Mrs.  Mollenhauer's  proposition  had  been  so 
incontinently  rejected,  something  else  would  have  to  be 
arranged  for.  Butler  was  ready  to  consider  any  propo 
sition  which  would  save  her;  but  it  must  be  a  sound  one — 
one  not  open  to  her  whimsical  moods  or  the  guidings  or 
leadings  of  romance.  Again  he  thought  of  his  wife's  sister 
in  New  Orleans,  and  again  of  getting  her  to  Europe  in 
some  way.  If  he  could  just  think  of  something  that  would 
interest  her  to  do — something  that  would  not  seem,  in 
spite  of  the  fact  that  it  was,  like  idle  incarceration  or 
alienation.  New  Orleans  would  scarcely  be  lively  enough. 
It  would  be  difficult  to  keep  her  there  except  under  sur 
veillance,  and  he  did  not  care  to  attempt  that  unless  it 
was  absolutely  necessary.  Something  must  be  done.  He 

524 


THE    FINANCIER 

must  take  her  in  hand  and  save  her.  She  was  absolutely 
a  menace  to  the  family  as  things  stood.  Heaven  only  knew 
how  much  harm  she  had  done  already.  He  must  act.  He 
cudgeled  his  weary  brain,  thinking  of  a  reformatory  known 
as  the  Good  Shepherd,  near  Philadelphia,  which  was  in 
charge  of  an  order  of  sisters,  where  Aileen  might  be  enticed 
and  restrained ;  but  that  must  be  a  last  resort.  He  thought 
of  intelligent  sisters  who  could  be  employed  as  chaperons 
— one  to  accompany  Aileen  and  Norah  on  a  trip,  or  Aileen 
alone.  That  was  a  fine  idea,  he  thought.  Why  had  not 
that  occurred  to  him  before?  Suddenly  he  recalled  the 
sister  who  had  taught  Aileen  music  at  St.  Agatha's,  Sister 
Constantia,  who  still  came  occasionally  to  see  them,  a 
woman  of  fifty,  and  charming  from  his  point  of  view. 
Why  not  her?  Aileen  had  liked  her — did  yet.  Sister 
Constantia!  Certainly!  Then,  suggested  by  her,  an 
other  thought  came  to  him — that  was  music.  Why 
should  not  Aileen  go  abroad  to  wherever  they  went  for 
that  purpose,  with  Sister  Constantia  as  a  chaperon,  and 
study  music?  A  capital  idea.  It  was  not  too  late. 
Aileen  was  not  too  old.  She  must  accept  this;  she  must 
go  at  once.  He  got  up,  the  third  day,  from  where  he  was 
sitting  in  his  private  office  meditating  this  dread  situation, 
having  meanwhile  not  had  one  word  with  Aileen,  and  de 
cided  to  act.  She  must  go.  He  must  compel  her.  He 
must  talk  to  her  at  once,  tell  her  what  he  thought,  re 
proach  her  with  her  sins  and  her  state  of  mind,  and  then 
by  sheer  force  of  will-power  compel  her  to  go.  It  was  a 
strenuous  hour  for  him — a  deadly  one. 

He  came  home  from  his  office  very  early  in  the  afternoon, 
hoping  to  find  Aileen  there,  in  order  that  he  might  have  a 
private  interview  with  her,  and  by  good  luck  found  her  in. 
She  was  sitting  in  her  room  reading.  She  had  had  no  taste 
to  go  out  into  the  world  these  last  few  days — she  was  too 
expectant  of  trouble  to  come.  She  had  been  reading 
aimlessly  anything  that  came  to  her  hand,  or  pretending 
to  do  so,  and  thinking.  She  had  written  Cowperwood 

525 


THE    FINANCIER 

how  things  stood,  and  had  asked  for  a  rendezvous  out 
on  the  Wissahickon,  in  spite  of  the  detectives.  She  must 
see  him.  Her  father,  she  said,  had  done  nothing;  but 
she  was  sure  he  would  attempt  to  do  something.  He  was 
merely  recovering  from  this  shock  of  surprise.  If  he 
attempted  to  coerce  her  in  any  way,  she  was  thinking  of 
running  away.  She  wanted  to  talk  to  Cowperwood  about 
that.  She  was  merely  waiting  patiently  until  the  next 
afternoon,  when  she  would  go  out  to  meet  him.  Old 
Butler  spoke  to  her  gently  when  he  came  in. 

"Come  into  my  room  a  little  while,  Aileen,"  he  said. 

Aileen  arose  and  followed. 

When  they  were  closeted  together,  safe  from  the  hear 
ing  of  the  other  members  of  the  family,  he  began  without 
any  preliminaries  of  any  kind. 

"I've  been  thinkin'  about  ye,  Aileen,  and  what  ought 
to  be  done  in  this  case.  You're  on  the  road  to  ruin  if 
ever  there  was  one.  I  tremble  when  I  think  of  your 
immortal  soul.  I  want  to  do  somethin'  for  ye,  my  child, 
before  it's  too  late.  I've  been  reproachin'  myself  for  the 
last  month  and  more,  thinkin',  perhaps,  it  was  somethin' 
I  had  done,  or  maybe  had  failed  to  do,  aither  me  or  your 
mother,  that  has  brought  ye  to  the  place  where  ye  are 
to-day.  Needless  to  say,  it's  on  my  conscience,  me  child. 
It's  a  heartbroken  man  you're  lookin'  at  this  day.  I'll 
never  be  able  to  hold  me  head  up  again.  Oh,  the  shame 
— the  shame!  That  I  should  have  lived  to  see  it!" 

"But  father,"  protested  Aileen,  who  was  a  little  dis 
traught  at  the  thought  of  having  to  listen  to  a  long  preach 
ment  which  would  relate  to  her  duty  to  God  and  the 
Church  and  her  family  and  her  mother  and  him.  She 
realized  that  all  these  were  important  in  their  way;  but 
Cowperwood  and  his  point  of  view  had  given  her  another 
outlook  on  life.  They  had  discussed  this  matter  of 
families — parents,  children,  husbands,  wives,  brothers, 
sisters — from  almost  every  point  of  view.  Cowperwood 's 
laissez-faire  attitude  had  permeated  and  colored  her  mind 

526 


THE    FINANCIER 

completely.  She  saw  things  through  his  cold,  direct  "I 
satisfy  myself"  attitude.  He  was  sorry  for  all  the  little 
differences  of  personality  that  sprang  up  between  people, 
causing  quarrels,  bickerings,  opposition,  and  separation; 
but  they  could  not  be  helped.  People  outgrew  each 
other.  Their  points  of  view  altered  at  varying  ratios — 
hence  changes.  Religion — he  smiled.  It  was  for  the 
weak,  the  fearsome.  Morals — those  who  had  them  had 
them;  those  who  didn't,  didn't.  There  was  no  explain 
ing.  As  for  him,  he  saw  nothing  wrong  in  the  sex  rela 
tionship.  Between  those  who  were  mutually  compatible 
it  was  innocent  and  delicious.  Aileen  in  his  arms,  un 
married,  but  loved  by  him,  and  he  by  her,  was  as  good 
and  pure  as  any  living  woman — a  great  deal  purer  than 
most.  Without  propinquity — nearness  of  blood,  mood, 
mind,  sentiment,  such  a  relationship  was  impossible.  It 
would  not  occur.  With  these  things,  marriage  or  no 
marriage,  it  was  perfect,  delightful.  One  found  oneself 
in  a  given  social  order,  theory,  or  scheme  of  things.  For 
purposes  of  social  success,  in  order  not  to  offend,  to 
smooth  one's  path,  make  things  easy,  avoid  useless  criti 
cism,  and  the  like,  it  was  necessary  to  create  an  outward 
seeming — ostensibly  conform.  Beyond  that  it  was  not 
necessary  to  do  anything.  Never  fail,  never  get  caught. 
If  you  did,  fight  your  way  out  silently  and  say  nothing. 
That  was  what  he  was  doing  in  connection  with  his  pres 
ent  financial  troubles;  that  was  what  he  had  been  ready 
to  do  the  other  day  when  they  were  caught.  It  was 
something  of  all  this  that  was  coloring  Aileen 's  mood  as 
she  listened  at  present. 

"But  father,"  she  protested,  "I  love  Mr.  Cowper- 
wood.  It's  almost  the  same  as  if  I  were  married  to  him. 
He  will  marry  me  some  day  when  he  gets  a  divorce  from 
Mrs.  Cowperwood.  You  don't  understand  how  it  is. 
He's  very  fond  of  me,  and  I  love  him.  He  needs  me." 

Butler  looked  at  her  with  strange,  non-understanding 
eyes.  He  scarcely  comprehended  what  she  was  talking 

527 


THE    FINANCIER 

about,  so  remote  was  all  this  from  his  understanding 
and  theory  of  life. 

"Needs  you,  does  he?"  he  asked,  sarcastically.  "  You're 
in  love  with  him,  and  him  a  married  man?  What  about 
his  wife  and  children?  I  don't  suppose  they  need  him. 
do  they?  What  talk  have  ye?" 

Aileen  flung  her  head  back  defiantly.  She  thought  she 
saw  how  useless  argument  was  with  her  father.  He  did 
not  understand  her  point  of  view.  Could  not,  of  course. 
"It's  true,  nevertheless,"  she  reiterated.  "You  just 
don't  understand." 

Butler  could  scarcely  believe  his  ears.  He  had  never 
heard  such  talk  before  in  his  life  from  any  one,  let  alone 
his  own  daughter.  It  amazed  and  shocked  him.  He  was 
quite  aware  of  all  the  subtleties  of  politics  and  business, 
but  these  of  romance  were  too  much  for  him.  He  knew 
nothing  about  them.  To  think  a  daughter  of  his  should 
be  talking  like  this!  and  he  and  she  Catholics — or  she 
ought  to  be.  He  could  not  understand  where  she  got 
such  notions  unless  it  was  from  the  Machiavellian,  cor 
rupting  brain  of  Cowperwood. 

"How  long  have  ye  had  these  notions,  my  child?"  he 
suddenly  asked,  calmly  and  soberly.  "Where  did  you 
get  them?  Ye  certainly  never  heard  anything  like' that 
in  this  house,  I  warrant.  Ye  talk  as  though  ye  had  gone 
out  of  yer  mind." 

"Oh,  don't  talk  nonsense,  father,"  flared  Aileen, 
angrily.  "I'm  not  a  child  any  more.  I'm  twenty-four 
years  of  age.  You  just  don't  understand.  Mr.  Cowper 
wood  doesn't  like  his  wife.  He's  going  to  get  a  divorce 
when  he  can,  and  will  marry  me.  I  love  him,  and  he 
loves  me,  and  that's  all  there  is  to  it." 

"Is  it,  though?"  asked  Butler,  grimly  determined,  by 
hook  or  by  crook,  to  bring  this  girl  to  her  senses.  He 
could  see  that  Cowperwood  had  had  an  easy  victim  here, 
whatever  he  (Butler)  might  have  originally  thought.  She 
was  a  strange,  wayward,  determined  girl.  "Ye'll  be 

528 


THE    FINANCIER 

takin'  no  thought  of  his  wife  and  children  then?  The 
fact  that  he's  goin'  to  jail,  besides,  is  nawthin'.  Ye'd  love 
him  just  as  much  in  convict  stripes,  I  suppose — more, 
maybe."  (The  old  man  was  at  his  best,  humanly  speak 
ing,  when  he  was  a  little  sarcastic.)  "Ye '11  have  him 
that  way,  likely,  if  at  all." 

Aileen  blazed  at  once  to  a  furious  heat.  "Yes,  I  know," 
she  sneered.  "That's  what  you  would  like.  I  know  what 
you've  been  doing.  Frank  does,  too.  You  won't  hurt 
him.  You  can't!  You  want  to  punish  him  on  my  ac 
count;  but  he  doesn't  care.  I'll  marry  him  anyhow.  I 
love  him,  and  I'll  wait  for  him  and  marry  him;  and  you 
can  do  what  you  please.  So  there!" 

"  Ye'll  marry  him,  will  you?"  asked  Butler,  nonplussed 
and  further  astounded.  "So  ye '11  wait  for  him  and 
marry  him?  Ye'll  take  him  away  from  his  wife  and 
children,  where,  if  he  were  half  a  man,  he'd  be  stayin' 
this  minute  instead  of  gallivantin'  around  with  you, 
and  marry  him?  Ye'd  disgrace  your  father  and  yer 
mother  and  yer  family.  Ye'll  stand  here  and  say  this 
to  me,  I  that  have  raised  ye,  cared  for  ye,  and  made 
somethin'  of  you?  Where  would  you  be  if  it  weren't  for 
me  and  your  poor,  hard-workin'  mother,  schemin'  and 
plannin'  for  you  year  in  and  year  out?  Ye 're  smarter 
than  I  am,  I  suppose.  Ye  know  more  about  the  world 
than  I  do,  or  any  one  else  that  might  want  to  say  any- 
thin'  to  ye.  I've  raised  ye  to  be  a  fine  lady,  and  this 
is  what  I  get.  Talk  about  me  not  bein'  able  to  under 
stand,  and  ye  lovin'  a  convict-to-be,  a  robber,  an  em 
bezzler,  a  bankrupt,  a  lyin',  thavin' — " 

"Father!"  exclaimed  Aileen,  determinedly.  "I'll  not 
listen  to  you  talking  that  way.  He's  not  any  of  the 
things  that  you  say.  I'll  not  stay  here."  She  moved 
toward  the  door;  but  Butler  stepped  in  between  her  and 
it.  His  face  for  the  moment  was  flushed  and  swollen 
with  anger. 

"But  I'm  not  through  with  him  yet,"  he  went  on,  ig- 

529 


THE    FINANCIER 

noting  her.  "I'll  get  him  as  sure  as  I  have  a  name. 
There's  law  in  this  land,  and  I'll  have  it  on  him.  I'll 
show  him  whether  he'll  come  sneakin'  into  dacent  homes 
and  robbin'  parents  of  their  children." 

He  paused  after  a  time,  for  Aileen's  face  was  hard  and 
tense  by  now,  resigned  but  indifferent. 

"It's  too  bad,  daughter,"  he  said,  quietly,  after  a  mo 
ment.  "I'm  lettin'  my  anger  get  the  best  of  me.  It 
wasn't  that  I  intended  talkin'  to  ye  about  when  I  ast 
ye  to  come  in.  It's  somethin'  else  I  have  on  me  mind. 
I  was  thinkin',  perhaps,  ye'd  like  to  go  to  Europe  for 
the  time  bein'  to  study  music."  Butler  was  really  a 
tactless  person  in  a  situation  of  this  kind.  He  really  knew 
very  little  about  women  and  romance.  He  scarcely  knew 
how  to  introduce  his  proposition.  He  had  made  one 
mistake  by  allowing  his  anger  to  get  the  better  of  him, 
and  now  he  was  making  another,  following  up  this  at 
tack  with  a  plea  for  a  trip  to  Europe.  "Ye 're  not 
quite  yourself  just  at  present.  Ye 're  needin'  a  rest. 
It  would  be  good  for  ye  to  go  away  for  a  while.  Ye 
could  have  a  nice  time  over  there.  Norah  could  go  along 
with  ye,  if  you  would,  and  Sister  Constantia  that  taught 
you.  Ye  wouldn't  object  to  havin'  her,  I  suppose?" 

At  the  mention  of  this  idea  of  a  trip  to  Europe  again, 
with  Sister  Constantia  and  music  thrown  in  to  give  it 
a  slightly  new  form,  Aileen  bridled.  She  was  not  such  a 
fool  but  what  she  could  see  that  her  father  was  trying 
to  be  nice  to  her — that  he  was  taking  the  situation  in 
which  he  had  discovered  her  in  the  best  possible  way 
from  his  own  point  of  view,  but  she  did  not  want  to  be 
made  to  be  grateful.  It  meant  taking  her  away  from 
Cowperwood.  She  did  not  propose  to  leave  Philadelphia 
— never,  never,  never! — so  long  as  Frank  was  in  so  much 
trouble.  And  she  was  opposed  to  conversation  on  this 
score.  How  could  she?  Her  sole  idea  of  happiness  was 
to  be  near  him. 

"I  wish  you  wouldn't  talk  about  that,  father,"  she 

530 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

began,  having  softened  under  his  explanation.  "I  don't 
want  to  go  to  Europe  now.  I  don't  want  to  leave  Phila 
delphia.  I  know  you  want  me  to  go ;  but  I  don't  want  to 
think  of  going  now.  I  can't." 

Butler's  brow  darkened  again.  "But  it  would  be  so 
fine  for  ye.  Ye  surely  can't  expect  to  stay  here  after — " 
He  paused,  for  he  was  going  to  say  "what  has  happened." 
He  knew  she  was  very  sensitive  on  that  point.  His  own 
conduct  in  hunting  her  down  had  been  such  a  breach  of 
fatherly  courtesy  that  he  knew  she  felt  resentful,  and  in 
a  way  properly  so.  Still,  what  could  be  greater  than  her 
own  crime?  "After,"  he  concluded,  "ye  have  made  such 
a  mistake  ye  surely  wouldn't  want  to  stay  here.  Ye 
won't  be  wantin'  to  keep  up  that — committin'  a  mortal 
sin.  It's  against  the  laws  of  God  and  man." 

He  did  so  hope  the  thought  of  sin  would  come  to  Aileen 
—the  enormity  of  her  crime  from  a  spiritual  point  of 
view — but  Aileen  did  not  see  it  at  all. 

"You  don't  understand  me,  father,"  she  exclaimed, 
hopelessly,  toward  the  end.  "You  can't.  I  have  one 
idea,  and  you  have  another.  I  don't  believe  in  any 
religion  any  more." 

The  moment  Aileen  had  said  this  she  wished  she  had 
not.  It  was  a  slip  of  the  tongue.  Butler's  face  took  on 
an  inexpressibly  sad,  despairing  look. 

"You  don't  believe?"  he  asked. 

"No,  not  exactly— not  like  you  do." 

He  shook  his  head. 

"The  harm  that  has  come  to  yer  soul!"  he  replied. 
"It's  plain  to  me,  daughter,  that  some  thin'  terrible  has 
happened  to  ye.  This  man  has  ruined  ye,  body  and  soul. 
Somethin'  must  be  done.  I  don't  want  to  be  hard  on  ye, 
but  ye  must  leave  Philadelphy.  Ye  can't  stay  here.  I 
can't  permit  ye.  Ye  can  go  to  Europe,  or  ye  can  go  to  yer 
aunt's  in  New  Orleans;  but  ye  must  go  somewhere.  I 
can't  have  ye  stayin'  here — it's  too  dangerous.  It's  sure 
to  be  comin'  out.  The  papers  '11  be  havin'  it  next.  Ye're 


THE    FINANCIER 

young  yet.  Yer  life  is  before  you.  I  tremble  for  yer 
soul;  but  so  long  as  ye're  young  and  alive  ye  may  come 
to  yer  senses.  It's  me  duty  to  be  hard.  It's  me  obliga 
tion  to  you  and  the  Church.  Ye  must  quit  this  life. 
Ye  must  lave  this  man.  Ye  must  never  see  him  any  more. 
I  can't  permit  ye.  He's  no  good.  He  has  no  intintion 
of  marrying  ye,  and  it  would  be  a  crime  against  God  and 
man  if  he  did.  No,  no!  Never  that!  The  man's  a 
bankrupt,  a  scoundrel,  a  thafe.  If  ye  had  him,  ye'd 
soon  be  the  unhappiest  woman  in  the  world.  He  wouldn't 
be  faithful  to  ye.  No."  He  paused.  "Ye  must  go 
away.  I  say  it  once  and  for  all.  I  mane  it  kindly.  I 
have  yer  best  interests  at  heart.  I  love  ye;  but  ye  must. 
I'm  sorry  to  see  ye  go — I'd  rather  have  ye  here.  No  one 
will  be  sorrier;  but  ye  must.  Ye  must  make  it  all  seem 
natcheral  and  ordinary  to  yer  mother;  but  ye  must  go 
— d'ye  hear?  Ye  must." 

He  paused,  looking  sadly  but  firmly  at  Aileen  under  his 
shaggy  gray  eyebrows.  She  knew  he  meant  this.  It  was 
his  most  solemn,  his  most  religious  expression. 

"Now  get  all  the  clothes  ye  want,"  he  said.  "Fix 
yourself  up  in  any  way  you  plase.  Say  where  ye  want  to 
go,  but  get  ready." 

"But  I  won't,  father,"  replied  Aileen,  equally  solemnly, 
equally  determinedly.  "  I  won't  go !  I  won't  leave  Phila 
delphia." 

"Ye  don't  mane  to  say  ye  will  deliberately  disobey 
me  when  I'm  asking  ye  to  do  somethin'  that's  intended 
for  yer  own  good,  will  ye,  daughter?" 

"Yes,  I  will,"  replied  Aileen,  determinedly.  "I  won't 
go!  I'm  sorry,  but  I  won't!" 

"Ye  really  mane  that,  do  ye?"  asked  Butler,  sadly, 
but  grimly. 

"Yes,  I  do,"  replied  Aileen,  grimly,  in  return. 

"Then  I'll  have  to  see  what  I  can  do,  daughter,"  re 
plied  the  old  man.  "Ye're  still  my  daughter,  whatever 
ye  are,  and  I'll  not  see  ye  come  to  wreck  and  ruin  for 

532 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

want  of  doin'  what  I  know  to  be  my  solemn  duty.  I'll 
give  ye  a  few  more  days  to  think  this  over.  I'll  not  stint 
ye  in  money  or  the  likes  of  that.  Ye  can  go  to  Europe, 
or  anywhere  ye  plase,  in  charge  of  Sister  Constantia.  Ye 
can  study  singin'  or  anythin'  ye  choose;  but  go  ye  must. 
There's  an  end  of  that.  There  are  laws  in  this  land 
still.  There  are  things  that  can  be  done  to  those  who 
won't  obey  the  law.  I  found  ye  this  time — much  as  it 
hurt  me  to  do  it.  I'll  find  ye  again  if  ye  try  to  disobey 
me.  Ye  must  change  yer  ways.  I  can't  have  ye  goin' 
on  as  ye  are.  Ye  understand  now.  It's  the  last  word. 
Give  this  man  up,  and  ye  can  have  anything  ye  choose. 
Ye're  my  girl — I'll  do  everything  I  can  in  this  world  to 
make  ye  happy.  Why,  why  shouldn't  I?  What  else 
have  I  to  live  for  but  me  children?  It's  ye  and  the  rest 
of  them  that  I've  been  workin'  and  plannin'  for  all  these 
years.  Come  now,  be  a  good  girl.  Ye  love  your  old 
father,  don't  ye?  Why,  I  rocked  ye  in  my  arms  as  a 
baby,  Aileen.  I've  watched  over  ye  when  ye  were  not 
bigger  than  what  would  rest  in  me  two  fists  here.  I've 
been  a  good  father  to  ye — ye  can't  deny  that.  Look  at 
the  other  girls  you've  seen.  Have  any  of  them  had  more 
nor  what  ye  have  had?  Ye  won't  go  against  me  in  this. 
I'm  sure  ye  won't.  Ye  can't.  Ye  love  me  too  much — 
surely  ye  do — don't  ye?" 

He  paused  and  put  a  big,  brown,  horny  hand  on  Aileen's 
arm.  She  had  listened  to  his  plea  not  unmoved — really 
more  or  less  softened — because  of  the  hopelessness  of  it. 
She  could  not  give  up  Cowperwood.  Her  father  just  did 
not  understand.  He  did  not  know  what  love  was.  Un 
questionably  he  had  never  loved  as  she  had.  Her  Frank 
—to  think  of  deserting  him ! 

She  stood  quite  silent  while  Butler  appealed  to  her. 

"I'd  like  to,  father,"  she  said.  "Really  I  would.  I 
do  love  you.  I  want  to  please  you;  but  I  can't  in  this — 
I  can't!  I  love  Mr.  Cowperwood.  You  don't  under 
stand — really  you  don't!" 

533 


THE    FINANCIER 

At  the  repetition  of  Cowperwood's  name  Butler's  mouth 
hardened.  He  could  see  that  she  was  infatuated — that 
his  carefully  calculated  plea  had  failed.  It  was  all  true, 
all  that  he  had  said;  but  she  would  not — could  not.  So 
he  must  think  of  some  other  way. 

"Very  well,  then,"  he  said,  as  Aileen  turned  away. 
"Have  it  yer  own  way,  if  ye  will.  Ye  must  go,  though, 
willy-nilly.  It  can't  be  any  other  way.  I  wish  to  God  it 
could." 

Aileen  went  out,  very  solemn,  and  Butler  went  over 
to  his  desk  and  sat  down.  "Such  a  situation!"  he 
said  to  himself.  "Such  a  complication!" 

But  she  must  go.  She  must  be  got  out  of  the  clutches 
of  Cowperwood.  He  would  spend  almost  any  sum  of 
money  to  make  her  happy;  but  she  must  no  longer  trifle 
with  this  villainous  man  in  this  shameful  way.  It  was 
inconceivable,  impossible.  He  would  spend  any  sum  of 
money  now  to  see  that  Cowperwood  did  not  escape  the 
clutches  of  the  law  on  the  charge  laid  against  him.  He 
must  act  at  once. 

At  the  same  time,  Aileen  sat  in  her  room  and  thought 
and  thought  as  to  what  she  was  to  do  next. 


CHAPTER   XLIX 

situation  which  confronted  Aileen  was  really  a 
trying  one.  A  girl  of  less  innate  courage  and  deter 
mination  would  have  weakened  and  yielded.  In  spite  of 
the  fact,  however,  that  she  had  been  in  and  of  her  family, 
living  by  its  Butler-provided  resources,  she  was  not  so 
dependent  on  it  mentally  and  emotionally  as  it  was  on 
her.  She  needed,  or  thought  she  did,  the  money  which 
her  father  provided  her  to  live  on;  but  the  Butler  family 
literally  needed  the  light  of  her  countenance  to  keep  them 
appropriately  cheerful,  and  if  she  went  away  there  would 
be  a  distinct  gulf  or  blank  that  would  not  soon  be  over 
come. 

Aileen  understood  this  clearly  enough  in  a  way.  She 
knew  her  father  and  mother  were  more  or  less  dependent 
on  her.  She  had  never  said  anything  about  it,  but  it 
was  evident.  She  took  it  as  a  matter  of  course.  Now, 
when  it  came  to  thinking  of  leaving  and  shifting  for  her 
self,  in  order  to  avoid  a  trip  which  she  did  not  care  to  be 
forced  into,  her  courage  was  based  largely  on  this  keen 
sense  of  her  own  significance  to  the  family.  They  could 
not  do  without  her  very  well.  She  thought  over  what 
Butler  had  said,  and  decided  she  must  act  at  once.  She 
dressed  for  the  street  the  next  morning,  after  her  father 
had  gone,  and  decided  to  step  in  at  the  Calligans's  about 
noon,  when  Mamie  would  be  at  home  for  luncheon.  Then 
she  would  take  up  the  matter  casually.  If  they  had  no 
objection,  she  would  go  there.  She  sometimes  wondered 
why  Cowperwood  did  not  suggest,  in  his  great  stress, 
that  they  leave  for  some  part  unknown ;  but  she  also  felt 

535 


THE    FINANCIER 

that  he  must  know  best  what  he  could  do.  His  increas 
ing  troubles  depressed  her. 

The  Calligans,  as  might  have  been  expected,  were  de 
lighted  when  she  arrived.  Aileen,  for  once,  was  a  little 
depressed.  Her  home  state  had  always  appeared  so  de 
lightful  to  the  Calligans  that  she  knew  they  would  be 
greatly  surprised.  Nevertheless  they  would  say  nothing 
in  opposition  to  her  mood.  After  exchanging  the  gossip 
of  the  day  with  Mrs.  Calligan,  who  was  alone — Mamie 
not  having  come  in  yet — she  went  to  the  piano  and 
played  a  melancholy  air.  Mrs.  Calligan  asked  after  her 
father  and  mother  and  Norah,  though  she  rarely  saw 
them,  or  any  of  Aileen 's  other  relatives  or  friends. 

"Sure  it's  lovely  the  way  you  play,"  said  Mrs.  Calli 
gan.  "I  like  to  hear  you,  Aileen.  I  wish  you'd  come 
oftener  to  see  us.  You're  so  rarely  here  nowadays." 

"Oh,  I've  been  so  busy,  Mrs.  Calligan,"  replied  Aileen. 
"I've  had  so  much  to  do  this  fall.  I  just  couldn't. 
They  wanted  me  to  go  to  Europe;  but  I  didn't  feel  that 
I  ought  to  go.  Oh  dear!"  she  sighed,  and  in  her  playing 
swept  off  with  a  movement  of  sad,  romantic  significance. 
As  she  was  doing  this  the  door  opened  and  Mamie  came 
in.  Her  commonplace  face  brightened  at  the  sight  of 
Aileen. 

"Well,  Aileen  Butler!"  she  exclaimed.  "Where  did 
you  come  from  ?  Where  have  you  been  keeping  yourself 
so  long?" 

Aileen  rose  to  exchange  kisses.  "Oh,  I've  been  very 
busy,  Mamie.  I've  just  been  telling  your  mother.  How 
are  you,  anyway?  How  are  you  getting  along  in  your 
work?" 

Mamie  recounted  at  once  some  school  difficulties  which 
were  puzzling  her — the  growing  size  of  classes  and  the 
amount  of  work  expected.  While  Mrs.  Calligan  was  set 
ting  the  table  Mamie  went  to  her  room  to  tidy  herself  up, 
and  Aileen  followed  her.  As  she  stood  before  her  mirror 
Aileen  stopped  and  looked  at  her  meditatively — an  act 

536  . 


THE    FINANCIER 

which  was  not  customary  with  Aileen — and  Mamie 
noticed  it. 

"There  is  something  the  matter  with  you  to-day, 
Aileen  Butler,"  observed  Mamie,  coming  over  to  her  and 
looking  in  her  face.  The  young  school-teacher  was  very 
fond  of  the  contractor's  daughter.  "You're  not  like 
yourself  at  all." 

"I've  got  something  on  my  mind,"  replied  Aileen — 
"something  that's  worrying  me.  I  don't  know  just  what 
to  do — that's  what's  the  matter." 

"Well,  whatever  can  it  be?"  commented  Mamie.  "I 
never  saw  you  act  this  way  before.  Can't  you  tell  me? 
What  is  it?" 

"No,  I  don't  think  I  can — not  now,  anyhow."  Aileen 
paused.  "Do  you  suppose  your  mother  would  object," 
she  asked,  suddenly,  "if  I  came  here  and  stayed  a  little 
while?  I  want  to  get  away  from  home  for  a  time  for  a 
certain  reason." 

"Why,  Aileen  Butler,  how  you  talk!"  exclaimed  her 
friend.  "Object!  You  know  she'd  be  delighted,  and  so 
would  I.  Oh,  dear — can  you  come?  But  what  makes 
you  want  to  leave  home?" 

"That's  just  what  I  can't  tell  you — not  now,  anyhow," 
replied  Aileen.  "You  mustn't  ask  me.  But  I  want  to 
come  if  you'll  let  me.  Will  you  speak  to  your  mother, 
or  shall  I?" 

"Why,  I  will,"  said  Mamie,  struck  with  wonder  at  this 
remarkable  development;  "but  it's  silly  to  do  it.  I 
know  what  she'll  say  before  I  tell  her,  and  so  do  you. 
You  can  just  bring  your  things  and  come.  That's  all." 

Aileen  looked  at  her  solemnly.  "But  neither  of  you 
must  tell  anybody  that  I'm  here.  I  don't  want  any 
body  to  know — particularly  no  one  of  my  family." 

"You're  not  going  to  run  away  for  good,  are  you, 
Aileen?"  asked  Mamie,  curiously  and  gravely. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know;  I  don't  know  what  I'll  do.  I  know 
that  I  want  to  come  away  for  a  while,  anyhow." 

18  537 


THE    FINANCIER 

"Well,  of  all  things,"  replied  her  friend.  "Wonders 
never  cease,  do  they,  Aileen?  But  it  will  be  so  lovely  to 
have  you  here.  Mama  will  be  so  pleased.  Of  course, 
we  won't  tell  anybody  if  you  don't  want  us  to.  Hardly 
any  one  ever  comes  here;  and  if  they  do,  you  needn't  see 
them.  You  can  have  this  big  room  next  to  me.  Oh, 
that  will  be  so  nice!  I'm  perfectly  delighted."  The 
young  school-teacher's  spirits  rose  to  a  decided  height, 
illustrating  the  old  saw  that  it's  an  ill  wind  that  blows 
nobody  any  good.  "Come  on.  We'll  tell  mama  right 
now." 

They  went  down  the  stairs  together,  Aileen  lingering 
behind  a  little  as  they  neared  the  bottom.  Mamie  burst 
in  upon  her  mother  with:  "Oh,  mama,  isn't  it  lovely? 
Aileen's  coming  to  stay  with  us  for  a  while.  She  doesn't 
want  any  one  to  know,  and  she's  coming  right  away." 
Aileen  entered  the  room  just  as  this  was  being  said.  Mrs. 
Calligan,  who  was  holding  a  sugar-bowl  in  her  hand, 
turned  to  survey  her  with  a  surprised  but  smiling  face. 
She  was  immediately  curious  as  to  why  Aileen  should 
want  to  come — why  leave  home.  To  her,  however, 
Butler's  daughter  was  a  woman  grown,  capable  of  reg 
ulating  her  own  affairs,  and  welcome,  of  course,  as  the 
honored  member  of  so  important  a  family.  It  was  very 
flattering  to  the  Calligans  to  think  that  she  would  want 
to  come  under  any  cirumstances,  whatever  they  might 
think. 

"I  don't  see  how  your  parents  can  let  you  go,  Aileen; 
but  you're  certainly  welcome  here  as  long  as  you  want 
to  stay."  The  hearty,  comprehending  manner  in  which 
she  said  this,  and  Mamie's  normal  enthusiasm,  caused 
Aileen  to  breathe  a  sigh  of  relief.  The  matter  of  the 
expense  of  her  presence  to  the  Calligans  came  into  her 
mind. 

"I  want  to  pay  you,  of  course,"  she  said  to  Mrs.  Calli 
gan,  "if  I  come." 

"The  very  idea,   Aileen  Butler!"   exclaimed   Mamie. 

533 


THE    FI  NANCIER 

"You'll  do  nothing  of  the  sort.  You'll  come  here  and 
live  with  me  as  my  guest." 

"No,  I  won't!  If  I  can't  pay  I  won't  come,"  replied 
Aileen.  "You'll  have  to  let  me  do  that."  She  knew 
that  the  Calligans  could  not  afford  to  keep  her. 

"Well,  we'll  not  talk  about  that  now,  anyhow,"  re 
plied  Mrs.  Calligan.  "You  can  come  when  you  like  and 
stay  as  long  as  you  like.  Reach  me  some  clean  napkins, 
Mamie." 

Aileen  remained  for  luncheon,  and  afterward  went 
away  satisfied  that  her  chief est  problem  had  been  solved. 
Now  her  way  was  clear.  She  could  come  here  if  she 
wanted  to.  It  was  all  a  matter  of  collecting  a  few  neces 
sary  things,  or  coming  without  bringing  anything  away. 
She  must  now  go  to  meet  Cowperwood  in  the  hope  that 
he  had  been  able  to  keep  his  appointment  and  would  have 
something  to  suggest. 


CHAPTER   L 

BEGINNING  with  that  dramatic  moment  when  he 
saw  Aileen  going  down  the  stairs  to  meet  her  angry 
father  Cowperwood  had  realized  that  he  had  in  Butler 
a  mortal  enemy.  It  had  astonished  him  greatly  that  the 
thing  had  ended  so  peacefully  even  for  the  present — he 
had  expected  to  encounter  Butler  or  Owen  or  Callum,  or 
all  three,  and  possibly  be  shot.  His  reason  told  him  that 
Butler  had  no  particular  claim  on  Aileen's  action — she 
was  old  enough  to  know  what  to  do;  but  he  also  realized 
that  the  old  man  was  inordinately  fond  of  her,  and,  from 
what  she  had  told  him  from  time  to  time,  that  her  father 
did  not  realize  quite  that  she  was  grown  up.  He  was 
really  astonished  to  think  that  Butler  was  so  foolish  as  to 
come  there  and  get  her,  for,  in  his  judgment,  if  anything 
could  finally  snap  the  tie  of  affection  which  so  closely 
bound  Aileen  to  her  family,  this  would  do  it.  She  would 
count  herself  from  now  on  more  or  less  of  an  outcast, 
whether  her  father  wanted  her  to  or  not.  Practically 
speaking,  Cowperwood  considered  it  quite  all  right  that 
she  should  have  left  with  her  father,  promising  to  write, 
and  also  that  he  himself  should  not  have  appeared  before 
Butler — that  could  only  have  been  fraught  with  danger, 
and  would  not  have  served  any  good  purpose.  Aileen 
had  not  wanted  him  to  defend  her  against  her  father 
under  the  circumstances,  and  he  knew  from  his  past 
connection  with  the  family  that  it  was  not  necessary 
to  do  so. 

Aside  from  being  sorry  for  Aileen,  Cowperwood  was  de 
cidedly  irritated  that  three  or  four  detectives  should  have 
been  employed  by  Butler  to  spy  out  his  movements,  and 

540 


THE    FINANCIER 

that  now  these  people  knew  that  he  was  guilty  of  this 
liaison.  While  it  was  not  such  a  fatal  thing  for  a  man  of 
his  position  to  be  caught  in  a  resort  of  this  kind,  it  might 
readily  be  used  in  future  situations  against  him.  It  might 
come  out — one  never  could  tell — these  detectives  whom  he 
did  not  know  might  spread  it;  though  he  fancied  that 
Butler,  for  Aileen's  sake,  had  taken  good  care  that  they 
should  not.  He  was  surprised  that  the  detectives  had  al 
lowed  him  to  walk  off  so  nonchalantly,  as  he  did  after 
Butler  and  Aileen  went  away,  saying  no  further  word 
whatever.  He  was  wondering  what  Butler  would  do  next. 
If  the  old  contractor  had  been  angry  before,  what  would  he 
be  now;  and  if  he  had  done  so  much  before,  what  would  he 
not  now  do  ?  Cowperwood  returned  to  his  office  curious  to 
hear  the  final  outcome  of  the  argument  between  Aileen 
and  her  father,  and  speculating,  of  course,  as  to  what  his 
various  court  proceedings  held  in  store  for  him. 

He  made-  no  effort  to  communicate  with  Aileen,  but 
awaited  her  letter,  which  came  promptly.  It  was,  as  usual, 
long,  optimistic,  affectionate,  and  defiant.  Her  father 
had  not  been  able  to  do  anything  with  her,  she  said,  up 
to  that  time.  (When  she  wrote  this  letter  the  final  con 
versation  with  Butler  had  not  been  held.)  She  did  not 
intend  that  he  should.  He  might  want  her  to  go  to 
Europe  or  somewhere,  but  she  would  not.  If  necessary, 
she  would  leave  home  first.  -  This  thought  puzzled  Cow 
perwood  very  much.  He  had  never  imagined  that  Aileen 
would  be  compelled  to  leave  home  before  he  was  prepared 
to  take  her;  and  if  she  did  now,  it  might  stir  up  complica 
tions  which  would  be  anything  but  pleasant  to  contem 
plate.  Aileen  in  the  bosom  of  her  family,  smart  and  well 
cared  for,  was  one  thing.  Aileen  out  in  the  world  depen 
dent  on  him  was  another.  Still  he  was  fond  of  her,  very, 
and  would  do  anything  to  make  her  happy.  He  could 
support  her  in  a  very  respectable  way  even  yet,  if  he  did 
not  eventually  go  to  prison,  and  even  there  he  might 
manage  to  make  some  shift  for  her.  It  would  be  so  much 

54i 


THE    FINANCIER 

better,  though,  if  he  could  persuade  her  to  remain  at  home 
until  he  knew  exactly  what  his  fate  was  to  be.  He  never 
imagined  but  that  some  day,  whatever  happened,  within  a 
reasonable  length  of  time,  he  would  be  rid  of  all  these  com 
plications  and  well-to-do  again,  in  which  case,  if  he  could 
get  a  divorce,  he  would  be  glad  to  take  Aileen  as  his  wife. 
If  not,  he  would  like  to  take  her  with  him,  anyhow,  and 
from  this  point  of  view  it  might  be  just  as  well  if  she 
broke  away  from  her  family  now.  But  from  the  point 
of  view  of  present  complications — the  search  Butler  would 
make,  the  espionage  he  might  cast  over  his  (Cowperwood's) 
affairs — it  might  be  dangerous.  In  extremis  Butler  might 
publicly  charge  him  with  abduction — but  no,  he  con 
cluded,  Butler  would  not  do  that.  It  would  create  too 
large  a  scandal.  Aileen  had  told  him  that  her  father 
had  not  told  her  mother  or  any  one  else,  and  his  own  ex 
perience  in  the  house  of  assignation  with  Aileen's  father 
had  indicated  as  much.  If  Butler  had  wanted  to  counte 
nance  publicity  something  deadly  would  have  happened 
to  him  (Cowperwood)  then.  He  decided,  if  he  could, 
to  persuade  Aileen  to  stay  at  home,  drop  meetings  and 
communications  for  the  time  being  if  necessary,  and  even 
go  abroad.  He  would  be  all  right  until  she  came  back, 
and  so  would  she — common  sense  ought  to  rule  in  this 
case.  But  Aileen  was  headstrong  and  very  much  in  love. 
She  might  not  want  to  do  it. 

When  he  received  her  letter  suggesting  an  appointment, 
he  decided  to  keep  it,  though  he  felt  it  was  a  little  danger 
ous.  He  drove  out  at  the  appointed  hour,  which  was 
three,  and  heard  Aileen's  story  of  her  argument  with  her 
father,  and  her  intention  of  leaving.  Cowperwood  saw 
that  if  she  carried  out  this  intention  Butler  would  think 
she  had  run  to  him,  which  was  what  he  did  not  want. 
He  did  not  want  Aileen  to  complicate  the  situation  so 
much  that  he  would  have  no  opportunity  whatever  of 
adjusting  his  affairs  locally.  He  loved  her  in  his  shrewd, 
intelligent  way:  but  he  did  not  propose  that  she  should 

542 


THE    FINANCJ  ER 

injure  him,  for  in  so  doing,  of  course,  she  would  injure 
herself  also  in  the  long  run. 

"Are  you  sure,"  he  asked,  after  he  had  listened  to  her 
description  of  the  Calligan  homestead,  "that  you  will  like 
that  place?  That  sounds  rather  poor  to  me." 

"Yes,  but  I  like  them  so  much,"  replied  Aileen. 

"And  you're  sure  they  won't  tell  on  you?" 

"Oh  no;  never,  never!" 

"Very  good,"  he  concluded.  "You  know  what  you're 
doing.  I  don't  want  to  advise  you  against  your  will.  If 
I  were  you,  though,  I'd  take  your  father's  advice  and  go 
away  for  a  while.  He'll  get  over  this  then,  and  I'll  still 
be  here.  I  can  write  you  occasionally,  and  you  can 
write  me." 

The  moment  Cowperwood  said  this  Aileen' s  brow 
clouded.  "Why,  how  you  talk!"  she  exclaimed.  "You 
know  I  won't  leave  Philadelphia  now.  You  certainly 
don't  expect  me  to  leave  you. ' '  Did  he  really  love  her  ?  she 
asked  herself.  Was  he  going  to  desert  her  just  when  she 
was  going  to  do  the  thing  which  would  bring  them  nearer 
together?  In  her  judgment  it  was  important  to  defy  her 
father.  Butler  had  outraged  her  sense  of  justice  and 
fair  play  in  putting  detectives  on  her  trail  and  in  his 
present  attempt  to  force  her  to  leave  Philadelphia.  To 
think  that  Frank,  after  all  his  protestations  of  affection, 
should  suggest  conforming  now  was  too  much.  It  hurt 
her.  Anyhow,  she  would  not  stay  at  home,  whatever 
Frank  did.  She  had  a  right  to  combat  her  father,  and 
she  would.  Her  love  for  Frank —  Her  eyes  clouded,  for 
she  was  terribly  hurt. 

Cowperwood  saw  it  all  very  clearly.  He  was  too  shrewd 
not  to.  He  was  immensely  fond  of  her.  Good  heaven, 
he  thought,  he  would  not  hurt  her  feelings  for  the  world! 
"Honey,"  he  said,  quickly,  when  he  saw  her  eyes, 
"you  don't  understand.  I  want  you  to  do  what  you  want 
to  do.  You've  planned  this  out  in  order  to  be  with  me; 
so  now  you  do  it.  Don't  think  any  more  about  me  or 

543 


THE    FINANCIER 

anything  I've  said.  I  was  merely  thinking  that  it  might 
make  matters  worse  for  both  of  us;  but  I  don't  believe 
it  will.  You  think  your  father  loves  you  so  much  that 
after  you're  gone  he'll  change  his  mind.  Very  good;  go. 
I  think  you're  right.  But  we  must  be  very  careful,  sweet 
— you  and  I — really  we  must.  This  thing  is  getting 
serious.  You'd  better  not  try  and  see  me  often  for  the 
present — not  any  oftener  than  we  can  possibly  help.  If 
we  had  used  common  sense  and  stopped  when  your  father 
got  that  letter,  this  wouldn't  have  happened.  Write  me, 
and  I'll  write  you.  You  haven't  any  money,  have  you?" 

He  went  down  in  his  pocket  for  the  first  time  since  he 
had  known  Aileen  and  produced  a  layer  of  bills.  "Here's 
two  hundred  dollars,  sweet,"  he  said,  "until  I  see  or  hear 
from  you.  I'll  see  that  you  have  whatever  you  need; 
and  now  don't  think  that  I  don't  love  you.  You  know 
I  do.  I'm  crazy  about  you." 

Aileen  protested  that  she  did  not  need  so  much — that 
she  did  not  really  need  any — she  had  some  at  home;  but 
he  put  that  aside.  He  knew  that  she  must  have  money. 

"Don't  talk,  honey,"  he  said;  "I  know  what  you 
need."  She  had  been  so  used  to  receiving  money  from 
her  father  and  mother  in  comfortable  amounts  from  time 
to  time  that  she  thought  nothing  of  it.  Frank  loved  her 
so  much  that  it  made  everything  right  between  them. 
She  softened  in  her  mood  and  they  discussed  the  matter 
of  letters,  reaching  the  conclusion  that  a  private  messenger 
would  be  safest  for  him — to  be  sent  to  Cherry  Street. 
When  finally  they  parted,  Aileen,  from  being  sunk  in 
the  depths  by  his  uncertain  attitude,  was  now  once  more 
on  the  heights.  She  decided  that  he  did  love  her,  and 
went  away  smiling.  She  had  her  Frank  to  fall  back  on — 
she  would  teach  her  father.  Cowperwood  shook  his  head, 
following  her  with  his  eyes.  She  represented  an  addi 
tional  burden  in  his  way,  and  Butler  would  be  furious; 
but,  "What  can  I  do?"  he  asked  himself.  Give  her  up? 
Certainly  not.  Tear  the  veil  from  this  illusion  of  affection 

544 


THE    FINANCIER 

and  make  her  feel  so  wretchedly  when  he  cared  for  her  so 
much?  No.  There  was  really  nothing  for  him  to  do 
but  what  he  had  done.  He  did  not  want  to  lose  her. 
No  least  cloud  must  come  over  this  perfect  scene  of  affec 
tion.  It  would  be  a  shame  to  spoil  it.  His  artistic 
nature  revolted  at  the  thought.  Better  chance  what 
ever  might  happen.  After  all,  he  reflected,  it  might  not 
work  out  so  badly.  It  might  be  made  pretty  clear  that 
she  had  not  run  to  him,  and  any  detective  work  that  Butler 
might  choose  to  do  would  prove  that.  If  at  any  moment 
it  became  necessary  to  bring  common  sense  into  play  to 
save  the  situation  from  a  deadly  climax,  he  could  have 
the  Butlers  secretly  informed  as  to  Aileen's  whereabouts. 
That  would  show  he  had  little  to  do  with  it,  and  they 
could  try  to  persuade  Aileen  to  come  home  again.  Good 
might  result — one  could  not  tell.  He  would  deal  with  the 
evils  as  they  arose.  He  drove  quickly  back  to  his  office,  and 
Aileen  returned  to  her  home  determined  to  put  her  plan 
into  action.  Her  father  had  given  her  some  little  time  in 
which  to  decide — possibly  he  would  give  her  longer — but 
she  would  not  wait.  Having  always  had  her  wish  granted 
in  everything,  she  could  not  understand  why  she  was  not 
to  have  her  way  this  time.  It  was  about  five  o'clock  now. 
She  would  wait  until  all  the  members  of  the  family  were 
comfortably  seated  at  the  dinner-table,  which  would  be 
about  seven  o'clock,  and  then  slip  out. 


CHAPTER  LI 

ON  arriving  home,  however,  Aileen  was  greeted  by  an 
unexpected  reason  for  suspending  action.  This  was 
the  presence  of  a  certain  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Steinmetz — the 
former  a  well-known  engineer  who  drew  the  plans  for 
many  of  the  works  which  Butler  undertook.  It  was  the 
day  before  Thanksgiving,  and  they  were  eager  to  have 
Aileen  and  Norah  accompany  them  for  a  fortnight's  stay 
at  their  new  home  in  West  Chester — a  structure  concern 
ing  the  charm  of  which  Aileen  had  heard  much.  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Steinmetz  were  exceedingly  agreeable  people — com 
paratively  young  and  surrounded  by  a  coterie  of  interest 
ing  friends.  Aileen,  in  view  of  the  protest  Cowperwood 
had  originally  made  and  the  fact  that  her  father  and 
mother,  particularly  her  father,  for  some  reason,  seemed 
most  friendly  to  the  project,  decided  to  delay  her  flight 
and  go.  She  could  not  very  well  escape  the  presence  of 
the  Steinmetzes,  who  were  staying  for  dinner,  and  besides 
she  judged  from  her  father's  attitude  that  he  had  not 
made  up  his  mind  to  anything  radical  as  yet.  He  was 
most  cordial.  She  did  not  realize  that  he  had  not  solved 
for  himself  yet  how  he  would  compel  her  to  go  anywhere 
without  the  rest  of  the  family  becoming  fully  aware  of  the 
situation,  and  that  the  presence  and  invitation  of  the 
Steinmetzes  was  as  much  of  a  relief  to  him  as  it  was  to 
her.  He  had  hoped  that  his  solemn  threat  would  be  suffi 
cient  to  compel  Aileen  to  acquiescence,  but  if  it  were  not 
he  was  glad  of  a  little  further  time  in  which  to  arrange  a 
plan  of  action.  West  Chester  being  forty  miles  from  Phila 
delphia,  it  was  unlikely  that  Aileen  would  attempt  to 

546 


THE    FINANCIER 

meet  Cowperwood  while  there — her  actions  would  be  too 
closely  remarked  by  her  friends;  so,  on  hearing  the  pro 
posal  of  the  Steinmetzes  he  had  shown  approval  at  once. 
Aileen  wrote  Cowperwood  of  the  changed  condition  and 
departed;  and  the  latter  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief,  fancy 
ing  at  the  time  that  this  storm  had  probably  permanently 
blown  over. 

In  the  meanwhile  the  day  of  Cowperwood's  trial  had 
been  drawing  near.  Owing  to  the  various  facts  which 
had  been  communicated  to  him  by  Aileen  and  others, 
Cowperwood  himself  was  under  the  impression  that  an 
attempt  was  going  to  be  made  to  convict  him  whether 
the  facts  warranted  it  or  not.  He  did  not  see  any  way 
out  of  his  dilemma,  however,  unless  it  was  to  abandon 
everything  and  leave  Philadelphia  for  good,  which  was 
impossible.  The  only  way  to  guard  his  future  and  re 
tain  his  financial  friends  was  to  stand  trial  as  quickly 
as  possible,  and  trust  them  to  assist  him  to  his  feet  in 
the  future  in  case  he  failed.  He  discussed  the  possibilities 
of  an  unfair  trial  with  Steger,  who  did  not  seem  to  think 
that  there  was  so  much  to  that.  In  the  first  place,  a  jury 
could  not  easily  be  suborned  by  any  one.  In  the  next 
place,  most  judges  were  honest,  in  spite  of  their  political 
cleavage,  and  would  go  no  further  than  party  bias  would 
lead  them  in  their  rulings  and  opinions,  which  was,  in 
the  main,  not  so  far. 

The  Court  of  Quarter  Sessions,  Part  I,  where  this  trial 
was  to  take  place,  was  held  in  the  famous  Independence 
Hall,  at  Sixth  and  Chestnut  Streets,  which  was  at  this 
time,  as  it  had  been  for  all  of  a  century  before,  the  center 
of  local  executive  and  judicial  life.  It  was  a  low  two- 
story  building  of  red  brick,  with  a  white  wooden  central 
tower  of  old  Dutch  and  English  derivation,  compounded 
of  the  square,  the  circle,  and  the  octagon.  The  total 
structure  consisted  of  a  central  portion  and  two  T-shaped 
wings  lying  to  the  right  and  left,  whose  small,  oval-topped 
old-fashioned  windows  and  doors  were  set  with  those 

547 


THE    FINANCIER 

many-paned  sashes  so  much  admired  by  those  who  love 
what  is  now  known  as  Colonial.  Here  and  in  an  addi 
tion  known  as  State  House  Row  (since  torn  down) ,  which 
extended  from  the  rear  of  the  building  toward  Walnut 
Street,  were  located  the  offices  of  the  mayor,  the  chief 
of  police,  the  city  treasurer,  the  chambers  of  council, 
and  all  the  other  important  and  executive  offices  of  the 
city,  together  with  the  four  branches  of  Quarter  Ses 
sions,  which  sat  to  hear  the  growing  docket  of  criminal 
cases.  The  mammoth  city  hall  which  was  subsequently 
completed  at  Broad  and  Market  Streets  was  then 
building. 

An  attempt  had  been  made  to  make  the  reasonably 
large  court-rooms  presentable  by  putting  in  them  raised 
platforms  of  dark  walnut  surmounted  by  large,  dark- 
walnut  desks,  behind  which  the  judges  sat;  but  the  at 
tempt  was  not  very  successful.  The  desks,  jury-boxes, 
and  railings  generally  were  made  too  large,  and  so  the 
rooms  looked  squat.  A  cream-colored  wall  was  con 
sidered  the  appropirate  thing  to  go  with  black-walnut 
furniture,  so  that  was  added;  but  time  and  dust  had  made 
the  combination  dreary.  There  were  no  pictures  or  or 
naments  of  any  kind,  save  the  stalky,  over-elaborated 
gas-brackets  which  stood  on  his  honor's  desk,  and  the 
single  swinging  chandelier  suspended  from  the  center  of 
the  ceiling.  Fat  bailiffs  and  court  officers,  concerned  only 
in  holding  their  workless  jobs,  did  not  add  anything  to 
the  spirit  of  the  scene.  Two  of  them  in  the  particular 
'court  in  which  this  trial  was  held  (Judge  Payderson's — 
Part  I)  contended  hourly  as  to  which  should  hand  his 
honor  a  glass  of  water.  One  preceded  his  honor  like  a  fat, 
stuffy,  dusty  majordomo  to  and  from  his  honor's  dressing- 
room.  His  business  was  to  call  loudly,  when  the  latter 
entered,  "His  honor  the  Court,  hats  off.  Everybody 
please  rise,"  while  a  second  bailiff,  standing  at  the  left  of 
his  honor  when  he  was  seated,  and  between  the  jury- 
box  and  the  witness-chair,  recited  in  an  absolutely  un- 

548 


THE    FINANCIER 

intelligible  way  that  beautiful  and  dignified  old  court- 
call,  which  begins,  " Hear  ye!  hear  ye!  hear  ye!"  and  ends, 
"All  those  of  you  having  just  cause  for  complaint  draw 
near  and  ye  shall  be  heard."  You  would  have  thought 
it  was  of  no  importance  in  the  world,  this  beautiful  and 
noble  statement  based  on  the  majesty  of  the  law  in  so 
far  as  it  is  based  on  the  will  of  the  people;  but,  neverthe 
less,  it  was.  Only  custom  and  indifference  had  allowed 
it  to  fall  so  badly  from  grace.  A  third  bailiff  guarded  the 
door  of  the  jury-room ;  and  in  addition  to  these  there  was 
present  a  court  clerk — small,  pale,  candle- waxy,  with 
colorless  milk-and-water  eyes,  and  thin,  pork-fat-colored 
hair  and  beard,  who  looked  for  all  the  world  like  an 
Americanized  and  decidedly  decrepit  Chinese  mandarin 
— and  a  court  stenographer. 

Part  One,  or  Room  One,  where  this,  to  Cowperwood, 
very  significant  trial  was  to  take  place,  was  presided  over 
at  this  time  by  Judge  Wilbur  Payderson,  a  lean  herring  of 
a  man,  who  had  sat  in  this  case  originally  as  the  examining 
judge  when  Cowperwood  had  been  indicted  by  the  grand 
jury,  and  who  had  bound  him  over  for  trial  at  this  term. 
Payderson  was  a  peculiarly  interesting  type  of  judge,  as 
judges  go.  He  was  so  meager  and  thin-blooded  that  it 
was  interesting  to  contemplate  him.  Technically,  he 
was  learned  in  the  law;  actually,  so  far  as  life  was  con 
cerned,  absolutely  unconscious  of  that  subtle  chemistry 
of  things  that  transcends  all  written  law  and  makes  for 
the  spirit  and,  beyond  that,  for  the  absolute  inutility  of 
all  law,  as  all  wise  judges  know.  You  could  have  looked 
at  this  lean,  pedantic  body,  his  frizzled  gray  hair,  his  fishy, 
blue-gray  eyes,  without  any  depth  of  speculation  in  them, 
and  his  nicely  modeled  but  unimportant  face,  and  told 
him  that  he  was  without  imagination;  but  he  would  not 
have  believed  you — would  have  fined  you  for  contempt 
of  court.  By  the  careful  garnering  of  all  his  little  oppor 
tunities,  the  furbishing  up  of  every  meager  advantage; 
by  listening  slavishly  to  the  voice  of  party,  and  following 

549 


THE    FINANCIER 

as  nearly  as  he  could  the  behests  of  intrenched  property, 
he  was  where  he  was.  It  was  not  very  far  along,  at  that. 
His  salary  was  only  six  thousand  dollars, a  year.  His  lit 
tle  fame  did  not  extend  beyond  the  meager  realm  of 
local  lawyers  and  judges.  But  the  sight  of  his  name 
quoted  daily  as  being  about  his  duties,  or  rendering  such 
and  such  a  decision,  was  a  great  satisfaction  to  him.  He 
thought  it  made  him  a  significant  figure  in  the  world. 
"Behold  I  am  not  as  other  men,"  he  often  thought,  and 
this  comforted  him.  He  was  very  much  flattered  when 
a  prominent  case  came  to  his  calendar;  and  as  he  sat  en 
throned  before  the  various  litigants  and  lawyers  he  felt, 
as  a  rule,  very  significant  indeed.  Now  and  then  some 
subtlety  of  life  would  confuse  his  really  limited  intellect; 
but  in  all  such  cases  there  was  the  letter  of  the  law.  He 
could  hunt  in  the  reports  to  find  out  what  really  thinking 
men  had  decided. 

Payderson  could  scarcely  be  pointed  to  as  an  unjust 
judge;  but  he  was  a  party  judge — Republican  in  prin 
ciple,  or  rather  belief,  beholden  to  the  dominant  party 
councils  for  his  personal  continuance  in  office,  and  as 
such  willing  and  anxious  to  do  whatever  he  considered 
that  he  reasonably  could  do  to  further  the  party  welfare 
and  the  private  interests  of  his  masters.  Most  people 
never  trouble  to  look  into  the  mechanics  of  the  thing  they 
call  their  conscience  too  closely.  They  have  no  great 
subtlety  at  getting  the  matter  of  ethics  and  morals  straight 
for  themselves.  Whatever  the  opinion  of  the  time  is, 
whatever  the  weight  of  great  interests  dictates,  that  they 
conscientiously  believe.  Some  one  has  since  invented 
the  phrase  "a  corporation-minded  judge."  There  are 
many  such. 

Payderson  was  one.  He  fairly  revered  property  and 
power.  To  him  Butler  and  Mollenhauer  and  Simpson 
were  great  men — reasonably  sure  to  be  right  always 
because  they  were  so  powerful.  How  did  they  come  to 
be  so  powerful  if  they  were  not  fair?  This  matter  of 

550 


THE    FINANCIER 

Cowperwood's  and  Stener's  defalcation  he  had  long  heard 
of.  He  knew  by  associating  with  one  political  light  and 
another  just  what  the  situation  was.  The  party,  as  the 
leaders  saw  it,  had  been  put  in  a  very  bad  position  by 
Cowperwood's  subtlety.  He  had  led  Stener  astray — more 
than  an  ordinary  city  treasurer  should  have  been  led 
astray — and,  although  Stener  was  primarily  guilty  as  the 
original  mover  in  the  criminality,  Cowperwood  was  more 
so  for  having  led  him  on  so  magnificently.  Besides,  the 
party  needed  a  scapegoat — that  was  enough  for  Payder- 
son,  in  the  first  place.  Later,  when  the  election  was  won, 
and  it  appeared  that  the  party  had  not  suffered  so  much, 
he  did  not  understand  quite  why  it  was  that  Cowperwood 
was  still  so  carefully  included  in  the  proceedings;  but  he 
had  faith  to  believe  that  the  leaders  had  some  just  grounds 
for  not  letting  him  off.  From  one  source  and  another  he 
learned  that  Butler  had  some  private  grudge  against 
Cowperwood.  What  it  was  no  one  seemed  to  know 
exactly.  The  general  impression  was  that  Cowperwood 
had  led  Butler  into  some  unwholesome  financial  transac 
tions.  Anyhow,  it  was  generally  understood  that  for  the 
good  of  the  party,  and  in  order  to  teach  a  wholesome 
lesson  to  dangerous  subordinates — men  like  Cowperwood 
— it  had  been  decided  to  allow  these  several  indictments  to 
take  their  course.  Cowperwood  was  to  be  punished  quite 
as  severely  as  Stener  for  the  moral  effect  on  the  community. 
The  broker  was  to  be  sent  up,  if  possible,  for  being  unfair 
to  the  bosses.  Stener  was  to  be  sentenced  the  maximum 
sentence  for  his  crime  in  order  that  the  party  and  the 
courts  should  appear  properly  righteous.  Beyond  that 
he  was  to  be  left  to  the  mercy  of  the  governor,  who  could 
ease  things  up  for  him  if  he  chose,  and  if  the  leaders  wished. 
In  the  silly  mind  of  the  general  public  the  various  judges 
of  Quarter  Sessions,  like  girls  incarcerated  in  boarding- 
schools,  were  supposed  in  their  serene  aloofness  from  life 
not  to  know  what  was  going  on  in  the  subterranean  realm 
of  politics;  but  they  knew  well  enough,  and,  knowing 


THE    FINANCIER 

particularly  well  from  whence  came  their  continued 
position  and  authority,  they  were  duly  grateful.  What 
the  leaders  wanted,  within  reason,  and  what  the  judges 
could  give  without  too  great  self-sacrifice  they  had— 
Judge  Wilbur  Payderson  included. 


CHAPTER    LII 

HPHE  court-room  on  the  morning  the  trial  began  was  no 
1  different  from  that  of  any  other  where  cases  of  this 
kind  are  tried,  though  because  of  the  notoriety  of  the  fact 
and  the  importance  of  the  personages  involved  the  room 
was  crowded.  Judge  Payderson  was  not  in  the  room 
when  Cowperwood  and  his  lawyer  and  his  father  and 
President  Davison  arrived — the  latter  separately,  but 
at  the  same  hour,  seeing  that  he  had  been  summoned  as 
a  witness.  But  the  scene  was  hardly  less  vivid  than  if 
Payderson  had  arrived,  for  there  was  an  expectant  hush 
over  the  place  and  an  air  of  intense  curiosity.  The  large 
ness  of  the  amount  involved  in  Stener's  defalcation,  Cow- 
perwood's  share  in  it,  the  lurid  background  of  fire  and 
panic,  the  subsequent  newspaper  comment — all  had  com 
bined  to  whet  that  native  human  curiosity  which  has  so  lit 
tle  to  feed  itself  on  in  the  ordinary  drift  of  humdrum  affairs. 
Besides,  the  moment  you  introduce  the  elements  of  chance, 
accident,  or  fate  into  any  human  situation  such  as  this 
you  immediately  arouse  human  curiosity  to  the  fullest. 
Fate,  chance,  accident  in  the  guise  of  the  Chicago  fire 
had  made  Cowperwood  and  Stener  alleged  felons.  The 
newspapers  had  already  freely  commented  on  how  strange 
it  was,  and  yet  how  true  to  life  that  a  fire  in  Chicago, 
nearly  a  thousand  miles  away,  should  have  made  a  crimi 
nal  of  a  man  here  in  Philadelphia.  Now  the  public  wanted 
to  see  the  man  who  had  made  a  fortune  out  of  the  cu 
pidity  of  Stener,  and  who  had  thus  inauspiciously  lost  it. 
When  Cowperwood  entered  with  Harper  Steger  and 
his  father,  quite  fresh  and  jaunty  (looking  the  part  of  the 
shrewd  financier,  the  resourceful  manipulator,  the  man 

553 


THE    FINANCIER 

of  affairs),  they  all  stared.  It  was  really  too  much  to 
expect,  most  of  them  thought,  that  a  man  like  this  would 
be  convicted.  He  was,  no  doubt,  guilty;  but,  also,  no 
doubt,  he  had  ways  and  means  of  evading  the  law.  His 
lawyer,  Harper  Steger,  looked  very  shrewd  and  canny  to 
them.  It  was  very  cold,  and  both  men  wore  long,  dark, 
bluish-gray  overcoats,  cut  in  the  latest  mode.  Cowper- 
wood  was  given  to  small  boutonnieres  in  fair  weather, 
but  to-day  he  wore  none.  His  tie,  however,  was  of  heavy, 
impressive  silk,  of  lavender  hue,  set  with  a  large,  clear, 
green  emerald,  which  was  cut  narrow  and  long,  and  set 
bias  to  the  line  of  his  waistcoat  buttons.  He  wore  only 
the  thinnest  of  watch-chains,  and  no  other  ornaments  of 
any  kind.  He  always  looked  reserved,  impressive,  jaunty, 
good-natured,  and  yet  capably  self -sufficient ;  and  he 
never  looked  more  so  than  he  did  to-day. 

Judge  Payderson  came  in  after  a  time,  accompanied 
by  his  undersized  but  stout  court  attendant,  who  looked 
more  like  a  pouter  pigeon  than  a  human  being;  and  as 
they  came,  Bailiff  Sparkheaver  rapped  on  the  judge's 
desk,  beside  which  he  had  been  slumbering,  and  mum 
bled,  "Please  rise!"  The  audience  .arose,  as  is  the  rule 
of  all  courts. 

When  the  judge  finally  cleared  away  the  various  minor 
motions  pending,  he  ordered  his  clerk,  Mr.  Able  Protus, 
to  call  the  case  of  the  City  of  Philadelphia  -versus  Frank  A. 
Cowperwood,  which  was  done  in  a  clear  voice.  Both 
Mr.  Dennis  Shannon,  the  district  attorney,  and  Mr. 
Steger,  Cowperwood's  counsel,  were  on  their  feet  at  once. 
Steger  and  Cowperwood,  together  with  Shannon  and 
Strobik,  who  had  now  come  in  and  was  standing  as  the 
representative  of  the  State  of  Pennsylvania — the  com 
plainant — had  seated  themselves  at  the  long  table  inside 
the  railing  which  inclosed  the  space  before  the  judge's 
desk.  Steger  proposed  to  Judge  Payderson,  for  effect's 
sake  more  than  anything  else,  that  this  indictment  be 
quashed,  but  was  overruled.  A  jury  to  try  the  case  was 

554 


THE    FI  NANCI  ER 

now  quickly  impaneled — twelve  men  out  of  the  usual  list 
called  to  serve  for  the  month — and  was  then  ready  to  be 
challenged  by  the  opposing  counsel.  The  business  of  im 
paneling  a  jury  was  a  rather  simple  thing  so  far  as  this 
court  was  concerned.  It  consisted  in  the  mandarin-like 
clerk  taking  the  names  of  all  the  jurors  called  to  serve  in 
this  court  for  the  month — some  fifty  in  all — and  putting 
them,  each  written  on  a  separate  slip  of  paper,  in  a  whirling 
drum,  spinning  it  around  a  few  times,  and  then  lifting  out 
the  first  slip  which  his  hand  encountered,  thus  glorifying 
chance  and  settling  on  who  should  be  juror  No.  i .  His  hand 
reaching  in  twelve  times  drew  out  the  names  of  the  twelve 
jurymen,  who  were,  as  their  names  were  called,  ordered 
to  take  their  places  in  the  jury-box  in  the  order  called. 

Cowperwood  observed  this  proceeding  with  a  great 
deal  of  interest.  What  could  be  more  important  than 
the  men  who  were  going  to  try  him?  The  process  was 
too  swift  for  accurate  judgment,  but  he  received  a  faint 
impression  of  middle-class  men.  One  man  in  particular, 
however,  an  old  man  of  sixty-five,  with  iron-gray  hair  and 
beard,  shaggy  eyebrows,  sallow  complexion,  and  stooped 
shoulders,  struck  him  as  having  that  kindness  of  tempera 
ment  and  breadth  of  experience  which  he  could  com 
mand  for  his  own  benefit  in  this  case.  Another,  a  small, 
sharp-nosed,  sharp-chinned  commercial  man  of  some  kind, 
he  took  an  immediate  dislike  to. 

"I  hope  I  don't  have  to  have  that  man  on  my  jury," 
he  said  to  Steger,  quietly. 

"You  don't,"  replied  Steger.  "  I'll  challenge  him.  We 
have  the  right  to  fifteen  peremptory  challenges  on  a  case 
like  this,  and  so  has  the  prosecution." 

Cowperwood  settled  back  in  his  chair  with  a  sense  of 
relief.  He  proposed  to  decide  for  himself  whether  some 
of  these  men  were  fit  or  not.  When  the  jury-box  was  final 
ly  full,  the  two  lawyers  waited  for  the  clerk  to  bring  them 
the  small  board  upon  which  slips  of  paper  bearing  the 
names  of  the  twelve  jurors  were  fastened  in  rows  in  order 

555 


THE    FINANCIER 

of  their  selection — jurors  one,  two,  and  three  being  in  the 
first  row;  four,  five,  and  six  in  the  second,  and  so  on.  It 
being  the  prerogative  of  the  attorney  for  the  prosecution  to 
examine  and  challenge  the  jurors  first,  Mr.  Shannon  arose, 
and,  taking  the  board,  began  to  question  them  as  to  their 
trades  or  professions,  their  knowledge  of  the  case  before  the 
court,  and  their  possible  prejudice  for  or  against  the  prisoner. 

The  collection  of  men  which  now  faced  Cowperwood 
and  his  lawyer,  as  well  as  the  district  attorney,  who  hoped 
for  a  conviction,  was  fairly  representative  of  that  assorted 
social  fry  which  the  drag-nets  of  the  courts,  cast  into  the 
ocean  of  the  city,  bring  to  the  surface  for  purposes  of  this 
sort.  It  was  made  up  in  the  main  of  managers,  agents, 
tradesmen,  editors,  engineers,  architects,  furriers,  grocers, 
traveling  salesmen,  authors,  and  every  other  kind  of  work 
ing  citizen  whose  experience  had  fitted  him  for  service  in 
proceedings  of  this  character.  Rarely  would  you  have 
found  a  man  of  great  distinction;  but  very  frequently  a 
group  of  men  who  were  possessed  of  no  small  modicum  of 
that  interesting  quality  known  as  hard  common  sense. 

Each  lawyer  asked  each  juror  whether  he  knew  the 
present  defendant,  whether  he  was  known  to  Stener,  or 
had  lost  money  in  the  panic,  or  was  a  hide-bound  Republi 
can,  etc.  Both  lawyers  looked  them  over  now  rather 
curiously  (those  twelve  plain  men  they  had  never  seen 
before),  and  Steger  decided  quite  at  once  that  when  his 
turn  came  he  would  prefer  to  dispose  of  a  certain  long- 
faced,  serene-eyed  mechanical  draftsman,  with  an  undue 
rigidity  of  jaw  and  an  air  of  self -controlling  conviction, 
whom  he  saw  before  him. 

"  I  will  ask  you  to  step  out  of  the  box,  Mr.  Simonton," 
he  said,  smilingly,  and  without  any  further  explanation; 
and  Mr.  Shannon,  who  was  a  good  judge  of  men,  smiled 
also.  He  knew  why.  The  old  man,  with  kindly  gray 
eyes,  slanting  shoulders,  a  full  gray  beard,  and  not  too 
nicely  trimmed  hair,  Steger  decided  to  keep,  because  he 
looked  wise,  and  as  though  he  had  suffered  much.  Such 

556 


THE    FINANCIER 

a  man  would  not  be  too  irritably  eager  to  enforce  the 
letter  or  the  spirit  of  the  law.  Unfortunately,  Mr.  Shan 
non  had  decided  in  his  own  mind  that  he  did  not  want 
him.  Cowperwood,  on  his  own  behalf,  was  quietly  ex 
amining  the  men,  and  he  was  an  accurate  judge  of  their 
qualities.  A  young  florist,  who  was  possessed  of  a  pale 
skin,  a  wide,  speculative  forehead,  and  anemic  hands, 
struck  him  as  being  sufficiently  impressionable  to  his  per 
sonal  charm  to  be  worth  while.  He  whispered  as  much 
to  Steger,  who  was  standing  beside  him.  There  was  a 
shrewd  Jew,  a  furrier,  who  was  challenged  because  he  had 
read  all  the  news  of  the  panic  and  had  lost  two  thou 
sand  dollars  in  street-railway  stocks.  There  was  a  stout 
wholesale  butcher  with  red  cheeks,  blue  eyes,  and  flaxen 
hair,  whom  Cowperwood  said  he  thought  was  easily  prej 
udiced  and  stubborn.  He  was  eliminated.  There  was 
a  thin,  dapper  manager  of  a  small  retail  clothing  store, 
very  anxious  to  be  excused,  who  declared,  falsely,  that  he 
did  not  believe  in  swearing  at  all  by  the  Bible.  Judge 
Payderson,  eying  him  severely,  let  him  go.  There  were 
some  ten  more  in  all — men  who  knew  of  Cowperwood, 
men  who  admitted  they  were  prejudiced,  men  who  were 
hide-bound  Republicans  and  resentful  of  this  crime,  men 
who  knew  Stener — who  were  pleasantly  eliminated.  One 
man  was  dropped  because  he  was  a  contractor,  and  most 
likely  friendly  to  the  administration,  though  he  said  not. 
He  was  an  Irishman.  Another  because  he  was  a  South 
erner  with  a  peculiar  streak  of  prejudice  and  narrowness 
showing  in  his  eyes.  So  it  went.  Oh,  for  a  modern 
Frans  Hals  or  Rembrandt  to  paint  a  jury ! 

By  twelve  o'clock,  however,  a  jury  reasonably  satis 
factory  to  both  sides  had  been  chosen.  Cowperwood 
looked  them  over  finally;  he  thought  they  seemed  like 
fairly  sensible,  considerate  men — young  and  old — and  so 
he  said  that  as  far  as  he  was  concerned  they  might  be 
sworn.  Shannon  accepted  them  also  without  further 
criticism. 


CHAPTER  LIII 

AT  two  o'clock  sharp  Dennis  Shannon,  as  district 
attorney,  charged  to  present  the  case  to  the  jury, 
began  his  opening  address.  In  all  such  cases  it  is  the 
district  attorney  who  states  to  the  jury  the  nature  of  the 
case  that  the  people,  through  the  agency  of  the  court, 
are  aoout  to  present  to  it.  He  stated  in  a  very  simple, 
kindly  way — for  he  had  a  most  engaging  manner — that  the 
indictment  as  here  presented  charged  Mr.  Frank  A.  Cow- 
perwood,  who  was  sitting  at  the  table  inside  the  jury-rail, 
first  with  larceny,  second  with  embezzlement,  third  with 
larceny  as  bailee,  and  fourth  with  embezzlement  of  a  cer 
tain  sum  of  money — a  specific  sum,  to  wit,  sixty  thousand 
dollars — on  a  check  given  him  (drawn  to  his  order) 
October  9,  1871,  which  was  intended  to  reimburse  him 
for  a  certain  number  of  certificates  of  city  loan,  which  he 
as  agent  or  bailee  of  the  check  was  supposed  to  have  pur 
chased  for  the  city  sinking-fund  on  the  order  of  the  city 
treasurer  (under  some  form  of  agreement  which  had  been 
in  existence  between  them,  and  which  had  been  in  force 
for  some  time) — said  fund  being  intended  to  take  up 
such  certificates  as  they  might  mature  in  the  hands  of 
holders  and  be  presented  for  payment — for  which  purpose, 
however,  the  check  in  question  had  never  been  used. 

"Now,  gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  Shannon,  very  quietly  and 
innocently,  "before  we  go  into  this  very  simple  question 
of  whether  Mr.  Cowperwood  did  or  did  not  on  the  date 
in  question  get  from  the  city  treasurer  sixty  thousand 
dollars,  for  which  he  made  no  honest  return,  let  me  ex 
plain  to  you  just  what  the  people  mean  when  they  charge 
him  first  with  larceny,  second  with  embezzlement,  third 

558 


THE    FINANCIER 

with  larceny  as  bailee,  and  fourth  with  embezzlement  on 
a  check — that  is,  the  check  for  sixty  thousand  dollars 
which  he  secured  on  the  date  in  question  without  making 
any  adequate  return,  or,  indeed,  any  return  whatsoever. 
Now,  as  you  see,  there  are  four  counts  here,  as  we  lawyers 
term  them,  and  the  reason  there  are  four  counts  is  as  fol 
lows  :  A  man  may  be  guilty  of  larceny  and  embezzlement 
at  the  same  time,  or  of  larceny  or  embezzlement  separate 
ly,  and  without  being  guilty  of  the  other,  and  the  district 
attorney  representing  the  people  might  be  uncertain,  not 
that  he  was  not  guilty  of  both,  but  that  it  might  not  be 
possible  to  present  the  evidence  under  one  count,  so  as  to 
insure  his  adequate  punishment  for  a  crime  which  in  a 
way  involved  both.  In  such  cases,  gentlemen,  it  it  cus 
tomary  to  indict  a  man  under  separate  counts,  as  has  been 
done  in  this  case.  Now,  the  four  counts  in  this  case,  in 
a  way,  overlap  and  confirm  each  other,  and  it  will  be  your 
duty,  after  we  have  explained  their  nature  and  character 
and  presented  the  evidence  in  regard  to  the  fact,  to  say 
whether  the  defendant  is  guilty  on  one  count  or  the  other, 
or  on  two  or  three  of  the  counts,  or  on  all  four,  just  as  you 
see  fit  and  proper — or,  to  put  it  in  a  better  way,  as  the 
evidence  warrants.  Larceny,  as  you  may  or  may  not 
know,  is  the  act  of  taking  away  the  goods  or  chattels  of 
another  without  his  knowledge  or  consent,  and  embezzle 
ment  is  the  fraudulent  appropriation  to  one's  own  use  of 
what  is  intrusted  to  one's  care  and  management,  es 
pecially  money.  Larceny  as  bailee,  on  the  other  hand,  is 
simply  a  more  definite  form  of  larceny  wherein  one  fixes 
the  act  of  carrying  away  the  goods  of  another  without  his 
knowledge  or  consent  on  the  person  to  whom  the  goods 
were  delivered  in  trust — that  is,  the  agent  or  bailee.  Em 
bezzlement  on  a  check,  which  constitutes  the  fourth  charge, 
is  simply  a  more  definite  form  of  fixing  charge  number  two 
in  an  exact  way  and  signifies  appropriating  the  money  on 
a  check  given  for  a  certain  definite  purpose.  All  of  these 
charges,  as  you  can  see,  gentlemen,  are  in  a  way  synony- 

559 


THE    FINANCIER 

mous.  They  overlap  and  overlay  each  other.  The  people, 
through  their  representative,  the  district  attorney,  con 
tend  that  Mr.  Cowperwood,  the  defendant  here,  is  guilty 
of  all  four  charges.  So  now,  gentlemen,  we  will  proceed 
to  the  history  of  this  crime,  which  proves  to  me  as  an 
individual  that  this  defendant  has  one  of  the  most  subtle 
and  dangerous  minds  of  the  criminal  financial  type,  and 
we  hope  by  witnesses  to  prove  that  to  you,  also." 

Mr.  Shannon,  because  the  rules  of  evidence  and  court 
procedure  admit  of  no  interruption  of  the  prosecution  in 
presenting  a  case,  went  on  to  describe  from  his  own  point 
of  view  how  Cowperwood  had  first  met  Stener ;  how  he  had 
wormed  himself  into  his  confidence;  how  little  financial 
knowledge  Stener  had,  and  so  forth;  coming  down  finally 
to  the  day  the  check  for  sixty  thousand  dollars  was  given 
Cowperwood;  how  Stener,  as  treasurer,  claimed  that  he 
knew  nothing  of  its  delivery,  which  constituted  the  base 
of  the  charge  of  larceny;  how  Cowperwood,  having  it, 
misappropriated  the  certificates  supposed  to  have  been 
purchased  for  the  sinking-fund,  if  they  were  purchased  at 
all — all  of  which  Shannon  said  constituted  the  crimes 
with  which  the  defendant  was  charged,  and  of  which  he 
was  unquestionably  guilty. 

"We  have  direct  and  positive  evidence  of  all  that  we 
have  thus  far  contended,  gentlemen,"  Mr.  Shannon  con 
cluded  violently.  ''This  is  not  a  matter  of  hearsay  or 
theory,  but  of  fact.  You  will  be  shown  by  direct  testimony 
which  cannot  be  shaken  just  how  it  was  done.  If,  after  you 
have  heard  all  this,  you  still  think  this  man  is  innocent — 
that  he  did  not  commit  the  crimes  with  which  he  is  charged 
— it  is  your  business  to  acquit  him.  On  the  other  hand,  if 
you  think  the  witnesses  whom  we  shall  put  on  the  stand 
are  telling  the  truth,  then  it  is  your  business  to  convict 
him,  to  find  a  verdict  for  the  people  as  against  the  de 
fendant.  I  thank  you  for  your  attention." 

The  jurors  stirred  comfortably  and  took  positions  of  ease, 
in  which  they  thought  they  were  to  rest  for  the  time;  but 


THE    FINANCIER 

their  idle  comfort  was  of  short  duration  for  Mr.  Shannon, 
now  called  out  the  name  of  Mr.  George  W.  Stener,  who 
came  hurrying  forward  very  pale,  very  flaccid,  very  tired- 
looking.  His  eyes,  as  he  took  his  seat  in  the  witness-chair, 
laying  his  hand  on  the  Bible  and  swearing  to  tell  the 
truth,  roved  in  a  restless,  nervous  manner.  Cowperwood 
studied  him  a  moment  carefully  as  he  sat  down  and 
their  eyes  met.  Stener  had  no  courage,  apparently,  any 
more — no  viewpoint.  He  could  not  endure  Cowper- 
wood's  steady,  examining  eye,  though  he  knew  now,  for 
the  first  time,  that  Cowperwood  was  bent  on  discrediting 
his  truthful  testimony  with  a  hard,  barefaced  lie.  He 
twisted  nervously  in  his  chair;  his  hands  kept  opening 
and  closing  and  moving  forward  and  backward  on  the 
high  side-arms. 

"He  certainly  has  got  into  a  bad  state  physically," 
observed  Cowperwood  to  Steger,  calmly;  and  the  latter 
agreed  quite  pleasantly.  They  watched  him  as  Mr. 
Shannon  began,  and  all  through  his  testimony;  but  he 
never  again  looked  at  Cowperwood — he  could  not  for 
some  reason,  though  he  really  had  the  more  truthful  end 
of  the  argument. 

Was  he  George  W.  ,Stener?  Yes.  Where  did  he  live? 
At  present  at  1112  Spring  Garden  Street.  What  was  his 
business  or  occupation  on  October  gth  last?  He  was 
treasurer  of  the  city  of  Philadelphia.  And  did  he  know 
the  defendant,  Frank  A.  Cowperwood,  who  was  sitting 
at  this  table  here  behind  the  speaker?  He  did.  Would 
he  tell  the  gentlemen  of  the  jury  where,  how,  and  under 
what  circumstances  he  had  first -met  the  defendant,  and 
would  he  please  try  to  speak  very  loud  and  clear,  so  that 
all  the  members  of  the  jury  might  hear — the  furthest 
member  over  here,  even? 

Mr.  Stener  cleared  his  voice,  which  was  a  little  weak. 
He  had  first  met  Mr.  Cowperwood  in  the  early  months 
of  1866 — he  could  not  remember  the  exact  day;  it  was 
during  his  first  term  as  city  treasurer — he  had  been  elected 


THE    FINANCIER 

mous.  They  overlap  and  overlay  each  other.  The  people, 
through  their  representative,  the  district  attorney,  con 
tend  that  Mr.  Cowperwood,  the  defendant  here,  is  guilty 
of  all  four  charges.  So  now,  gentlemen,  we  will  proceed 
to  the  history  of  this  crime,  which  proves  to  me  as  an 
individual  that  this  defendant  has  one  of  the  most  subtle 
and  dangerous  minds  of  the  criminal  financial  type,  and 
we  hope  by  witnesses  to  prove  that  to  you,  also." 

Mr.  Shannon,  because  the  rules  of  evidence  and  court 
procedure  admit  of  no  interruption  of  the  prosecution  in 
presenting  a  case,  went  on  to  describe  from  his  own  point 
of  view  how  Cowperwood  had  first  met  Stener ;  how  he  had 
wormed  himself  into  his  confidence;  how  little  financial 
knowledge  Stener  had,  and  so  forth;  coming  down  finally 
to  the  day  the  check  for  sixty  thousand  dollars  was  given 
Cowperwood;  how  Stener,  as  treasurer,  claimed  that  he 
knew  nothing  of  its  delivery,  which  constituted  the  base 
of  the  charge  of  larceny;  how  Cowperwood,  having  it, 
misappropriated  the  certificates  supposed  to  have  been 
purchased  for  the  sinking-fund,  if  they  were  purchased  at 
all — all  of  which  Shannon  said  constituted  the  crimes 
with  which  the  defendant  was  charged,  and  of  which  he 
was  unquestionably  guilty. 

"We  have  direct  and  positive  evidence  of  all  that  we 
have  thus  far  contended,  gentlemen,"  Mr.  Shannon  con 
cluded  violently.  "This  is  not  a  matter  of  hearsay  or 
theory,  but  of  fact.  You  will  be  shown  by  direct  testimony 
which  cannot  be  shaken  just  how  it  was  done.  If,  after  you 
have  heard  all  this,  you  still  think  this  man  is  innocent — 
that  he  did  not  commit  the  crimes  with  which  he  is  charged 
— it  is  your  business  to  acquit  him.  On  the  other  hand,  if 
you  think  the  witnesses  whom  we  shall  put  on  the  stand 
are  telling  the  truth,  then  it  is  your  business  to  convict 
him,  to  find  a  verdict  for  the  people  as  against  the  de 
fendant.  I  thank  you  for  your  attention." 

The  jurors  stirred  comfortably  and  took  positions  of  ease, 
in  which  they  thought  they  were  to  rest  for  the  time;  but 

560 


THE    FINANCIER 

their  idle  comfort  was  of  short  duration  for  Mr.  Shannon, 
now  called  out  the  name  of  Mr.  George  W.  Stener,  who 
came  hurrying  forward  very  pale,  very  flaccid,  very  tired- 
looking.  His  eyes,  as  he  took  his  seat  in  the  witness-chair, 
laying  his  hand  on  the  Bible  and  swearing  to  tell  the 
truth,  roved  in  a  restless,  nervous  manner.  Cowperwood 
studied  him  a  moment  carefully  as  he  sat  down  and 
their  eyes  met.  Stener  had  no  courage,  apparently,  any 
more — no  viewpoint.  He  could  not  endure  Cowper- 
wood's  steady,  examining  eye,  though  he  knew  now,  for 
the  first  time,  that  Cowperwood  was  bent  on  discrediting 
his  truthful  testimony  with  a  hard,  barefaced  lie.  He 
twisted  nervously  in  his  chair;  his  hands  kept  opening 
and  closing  and  moving  forward  and  backward  on  the 
high  side-arms. 

"He  certainly  has  got  into  a  bad  state  physically," 
observed  Cowperwood  to  Steger,  calmly;  and  the  latter 
agreed  quite  pleasantly.  They  watched  him  as  Mr. 
Shannon  began,  and  all  through  his  testimony;  but  he 
never  again  looked  at  Cowperwood — he  could  not  for 
some  reason,  though  he  really  had  the  more  truthful  end 
of  the  argument. 

Was  he  George  W.  ,Stener?  Yes.  Where  did  he  live? 
At  present  at  1112  Spring  Garden  Street.  What  was  his 
business  or  occupation  on  October  gth  last?  He  was 
treasurer  of  the  city  of  Philadelphia.  And  did  he  know 
the  defendant,  Frank  A.  Cowperwood,  who  was  sitting 
at  this  table  here  behind  the  speaker?  He  did.  Would 
he  tell  the  gentlemen  of  the  jury  where,  how,  and  under 
what  circumstances  he  had  first -met  the  defendant,  and 
would  he  please  try  to  speak  very  loud  and  clear,  so  that 
all  the  members  of  the  jury  might  hear — the  furthest 
member  over  here,  even? 

Mr.  Stener  cleared  his  voice,  which  was  a  little  weak. 
He  had  first  met  Mr.  Cowperwood  in  the  early  months 
of  1866 — he  could  not  remember  the  exact  day;  it  was 
during  his  first  term  as  city  treasurer — he  had  been  elected 


THE    FINANCIER 


to  the  office  in  the  fall  of  1864.  He  had  been  troubled 
about  the  condition  of  city  loan,  which  was  below  par, 
and  which  could  not  be  sold  by  the  city  legally  at  any 
thing  but  par.  Mr.  Cowperwood  had  been  recommended 
to  him  by  some  one — Mr.  Strobik,  he  believed,  though  he 
couldn't  be  sure.  It  was  the  custom  of  city  treasurers 
to  employ  brokers,  or  a  broker,  in  a  crisis  of  this  kind, 
and  he  was  merely  following  what  had  been  the  custom. 
He  went  on  to  describe,  under  steady  promptings  and 
questions  from  the  incisive  mind  of  Mr.  Shannon,  just 
what  the  nature  of  this  first  conversation  was — he  remem 
bered  it  fairly  well;  how  Mr.  Cowperwood  had  said  he 
thought  he  could  do  what  was  wanted ;  how  Cowperwood 
had  gone  away  and  drawn  up  a  plan  or  thought  one  out; 
and  how  he  had  returned  and  laid  it  before  Stener.  Under 
Mr.  Shannon's  skilful  guidance  Stener  elucidated  just 
what  this  scheme  was — which  wasn't  exactly  so  flattering 
to  the  honesty  of  men  in  general  as  it  was  a  testimonial 
to  their  subtlety  and  skill.  After  much  discussion  of 
Stener 's  and  Cowperwood 's  relations  the  story  finally 
got  down  to  the  preceding  October,  when  by  dint  of 
companionship,  long  business  understanding,  mutually 
prosperous  relationship,  etc.,  the  place  had  been  reached 
where  it  was  explained  Cowperwood  was  not  only  handling 
several  millions  of  city  loan  annually,  buying  and  selling 
for  the  city  and  trading  in  it  generally,  but  in  the  bargain 
had  secured  some  five  hundred  thousand  dollars'  worth 
of  city  money  at  an  exceedingly  low  rate  of  interest, 
which  was  being  invested  for  himself  and  Stener  in  profit 
able  street-car  ventures  of  one  kind  and  another.  Stener 
was  not  anxious  to  be  altogether  clear  on  this  point;  but 
Shannon,  seeing  that  he  was  later  to  prosecute  Stener  him 
self  for  this  very  crime  of  embezzlement,  and  that  Steger 
would  soon  follow  in  cross-examination,  was  not  willing 
to  let  him  be  hazy.  Shannon  wanted  to  fix  Cowperwood 
in  the  minds  of  the  jury  as  a  clever,  tricky  financial  per 
son,  and  he  certainly  managed  to  indicate  a  very  subtle- 

562 


THE    FINANCIER 

minded  man.  The  jurors  occasionally,  as  one  sharp 
point  of  his  skill  after  another  was  brought  out  and  made 
moderately  clear,  turned  to  look  at  Cowperwood.  He 
merely  gazed  Stenerward  with  a  steady  air  of  intelligence 
and  comprehension. 

The  examination  now  came  down  to  the  matter  of  the 
particular  check  for  sixty  thousand  dollars  which  Albert 
Stires  had  handed  Cowperwood  on  the  afternoon — late — 
of  October  9,  1871.  Mr.  Shannon  showed  Mr.  Stener 
the  check  itself.  Had  he  ever  seen  it?  Yes.  Where? 
In  the  office  of  District- Attorney  Pettie  on  October  2oth, 
or  thereabouts,  last.  Was  that  the  first  time  he  had  seen 
it  ?  Yes.  Had  he  ever  heard  about  it  before  then  ?  Yes. 
When?  On  October  loth  last.  Would  he  kindly  tell 
the  jury  in  his  own  way  just  how  and  under  what  circum 
stances  he  first  heard  of  it  then  ?  Mr.  Stener  twisted  un 
comfortably  in  his  chair.  It  was  a  hard  thing  to  do.  It 
was  not  a  pleasant  commentary  on  his  own  character 
and  degree  of  moral  stamina,  to  say  the  least.  However, 
he  cleared  his  throat  again  and  began  a  description  of 
that  small  but  bitter  section  of  his  life's  drama  in  which 
Cowperwood,  finding  himself  in  a  tight  place  and  about 
to  fail,  had  come  to  him  at  his  office  and  demanded  that 
he  loan  him  three  hundred  thousand  dollars  more  in  one 
lump  sum. 

There  was  considerable  bickering  just  at  this  point  be 
tween  Mr.  Steger  and  Mr.  Shannon,  for  the  former  was  very 
anxious  to  make  it  appear  that  Mr.  Stener  was  lying  out 
of  the  whole  cloth  about  this — that  his  client  had  never 
said  that  he  was  about  to  fail,  and  that  the  sum  had  not 
been  as  much  as  three  hundred  thousand  dollars.  Steger 
got  in  his  objection  at  this  point,  and  created  a  consider 
able  diversion  from  the  main  theme,  because  Stener  kept 
saying  he  "thought"  or  he  "believed." 

"Object!"  shouted  Steger,  repeatedly.  "I  move  that 
that  be  stricken  from  the  record  as  incompetent,  irrele 
vant,  and  immaterial.  The  witness  is  not  allowed  to  say 

563 


THE    Fl  NANCIER 

what  he  thinks,  and  the  prosecution  knows  it  very 
well." 

"Your  honor,"  insisted  Shannon,  "I  am  doing  the 
best  I  can  to  have  the  witness  tell  a  plain,  straight 
forward  story,  and  I  think  that  it  is  obvious  that  he  is 
doing  so." 

* '  Object !' '  reiterated  Steger ,  vociferously.  ' '  Your  honor, 
I  insist  that  the  district  attorney  has  no  right  to  prejudice 
the  minds  of  the  jury  by  nattering  estimates  of  the  sin 
cerity  of  the  witness.  What  he  thinks  of  the  witness 
and  his  sincerity  is  of  no  importance  in  this  case.  I 
must  ask  that  your  honor  caution  him  plainly  in  this 
matter." 

"Objection  overruled,"  declared  Judge  Payderson;  and 
Shannon  went  on  with  his  case. 

During  this  testimony  Cowperwood  stared  at  Stener  in 
a  curious  way.  You  would  have  thought  he  was  trying  to 
influence  him  mentally  in  some  fashion.  He  was  pleased 
to  see  that  Stener  had  no  intention  or  opportunity  to  shift 
or  lie  on  any  particular  points.  The  preceding  district 
attorney  had  framed  this  case  so  as  to  try  it  solely  on  the 
merits  of  the  question  whether  or  not  Cowperwood,  know 
ing  that  he  was  a  bankrupt  at  the  time,  had  feloniously 
appropriated  to  his  own  use  sixty  thousand  dollars'  worth 
of  the  city's  money.  All  the  evidence  admitted  to  the 
records  of  the  case  must  tend  either  to  affirm  or  deny 
this  fact.  Stener's  testimony,  in  one  respect,  was  most 
important,  for  it  made  plain  what  Mr.  Cowperwood  did 
not  want  brought  out — namely,  that  Cowperwood  and 
Stener  had  had  a  dispute  before  this;  that  Stener  had 
distinctly  told  Cowperwood  that  he  would  not  loan 
him  any  more  money;  that  Cowperwood  had  told 
Stener,  on  the  day  before  he  secured  this  check,  and 
again  on  that  very  day,  that  he  was  in  a  very  desperate 
situation  financially,  and  that  if  he  were  not  assisted  to 
the  extent  of  three  hundred  thousand  dollars  he  would 
fail,  and  that  then  both  he  and  Stener  would  be  ruined. 

564 


THE    FINANCIER 

On  the  morning  of  this  day,  according  to  Stener,  he  had 
sent  Cowperwood  a  letter  ordering  him  to  cease  pur 
chasing  city  loan  certificates  for  the  sinking-fund.  It 
was  after  their  conversation  on  the  same  afternoon  that 
Cowperwood  surreptitiously  secured  the  check  for  sixty 
thousand  dollars  from  Albert  Stires  without  his  (Stener's) 
knowledge;  and  it  was  subsequent  to  this  latter  again 
that  Stener,  sending  Albert  to  demand  the  return  of  the 
check,  was  refused,  though  the  next  day  at  five  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon  Cowperwood  made  an  assignment.  This 
was  dark  testimony  for  Cowperwood. 

If  any  one  imagines  that  all  this  was  done  without  many 
vehement  objections  and  exceptions  made  and  taken  by  Mr. 
Steger,  and  subsequently  when  he  was  cross-examining 
Mr.  Stener,  by  Mr.  Shannon,  they  will  err  greatly.  The 
chamber  was  coruscating  at  times  with  these  two  gentle 
men's  bitter  wrangles,  and  his  honor  was  compelled  to 
hammer  his  desk  with  his  gavel,  and  to  threaten  both  with 
contempt  of  court,  in  order  to  bring  them  to  a  sense  of 
order.  Mr.  Steger  was  most  bitter  in  his  characterization 
of  Mr.  Shannon's  motives,  and  finally  they  nearly  came  to 
blows  over  the  question  as  to  whether  Mr.  Shannon  was 
a  shyster,  as  charged  by  Mr.  Steger.  The  jury  was 
amused  and  interested.  Judge  Payderson  was  highly 
incensed. 

"You  gentlemen  will  have  to  stop  this,  or  I  tell  you  now 
that  you  will  both  be  heavily  fined.  This  is  a  court  of 
law,  not  a  bar-room.  Mr.  Steger,  I  expect  you  to  apolo 
gize  to  me  and  your  colleague  at  once.  Mr.  Shannon,  I 
must  ask  that  you  use  less  aggressive  methods.  Your 
manner  is  offensive  to  me.  It  is  not  becoming  to  a  court 
of  law.  I  will  not  caution  either  of  you  again." 

Both  lawyers  apologized  as  lawyers  do  on  such  occasions, 
but  it  really  made  but  little  difference.  Their  individual 
attitudes  and  moods  continued  about  as  before. 

"What  did  he  say  to  you,"  asked  Mr.  Shannon  of  Mr. 
Stener,  after  one  of  these  troublesome  interruptions,  "on 

565 


THE    FINANCIER 

that  occasion,  October  gth  last,  when  he  came  to  you 
and  demanded  the  loan  of  an  additional  three  hundred 
thousand  dollars?  Give  his  words  as  near  as  you  can 
remember — exactly,  if  possible." 

"Object!"  interposed  Mr.  Steger,  vigorously.  "His 
exact  words  are  not  recorded  anywhere  except  in  Mr. 
Stener's  memory,  and  his  memory  of  them  cannot  be 
admitted  in  this  case.  The  witness  has  testified  to  the 
general  facts." 

Judge  Payderson  smiled  grimly.  "Objection  over 
ruled,"  he  returned,  chewing  his  pencil-point  to  pass  the 
time. 

"Exception!"  shouted  Mr.  Steger. 

"He  said,  as  near  as  I  can  remember,"  replied  Stener, 
drumming  on  the  arms  of  the  witness-chair  in  a  nervous 
way,  "that  if  I  didn't  give  him  three  hundred  thousand 
dollars  he  was  going  to  fail,  and  I  would  be  poor  and  go 
to  the  penitentiary." 

"Object!"  shouted  Mr.  Steger,  leaping  to  his  feet. 
"Your  honor,  I  object  to  the  whole  manner  in  which  this 
examination  is  being  conducted  by  the  prosecution.  The 
evidence  which  the  district  attorney  is  here  trying  to 
extract  from  the  uncertain  memory  of  the  witness  is  in 
defiance  of  all  law  and  precedent,  and  has  no  definite  bear 
ing  on  the  facts  of  the  case,  and  could  not  disprove  or 
substantiate  whether  Mr.  Cowperwood  thought  or  did 
not  think  that  he  was  going  to  fail.  Mr.  Stener  might 
give  one  version  of  this  conversation  or  any  conversation 
that  took  place  at  this  time,  and  Mr.  Cowperwood  an 
other.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  their  versions  are  different. 
I  see  no  point  in  Mr.  Shannon's  line  of  inquiry,  unless  it  is 
to  prejudice  the  jury's  minds  toward  accepting  certain 
allegations  which  the  prosecution  is  pleased  to  make  and 
which  it  cannot  possibly  substantiate.  I  think  you  ought 
to  caution  the  witness  to  testify  only  in  regard  to  things 
that  he  recalls  exactly,  not  to  what  he  thinks  he  remem 
bers  ;  and  for  my  part  I  think  that  all  that  has  been  testi- 

566 


THE    FINANCIER 

fied  to  in  the  last  five  minutes  might  be  well  stricken 
out." 

"Objection  overruled,"  replied  Judge  Payderson,  rather 
indifferently;  and  Steger,  who  had  been  talking  merely  to 
overcome  the  weight  of  Stener's  testimony  in  the  minds 
of  the  jury,  sat  down. 

Mr.  Shannon  once  more  approached  Mr.  Stener. 

"Now,  as  near  as  you  can  remember,  Mr.  Stener,  I 
wish  you  would  tell  the  jury  what  else  it  was  that  Mr. 
Cowperwood  said  on  that  occasion.  He  certainly  didn't 
stop  with  the  remark  that  you  would  be  ruined  and  go 
to  the  penitentiary.  Wasn't  there  other  language  that 
was  employed  on  that  occasion?" 

"He  said,  as  far  as  I  can  remember,"  replied  Stener, 
"that  there  were  a  lot  of  political  schemers  who  were 
trying  to  frighten  me,  that  if  I  didn't  give  him  three 
hundred  thousand  dollars  we  would  both  be  ruined, 
and  that  I  might  as  well  be  tried  for  stealing  a  sheep 
as  a  lamb." 

"Ha!"  yelled  Shannon.     "He  said  that,  did  he?" 

"Yes,  sir;  he  did,"  said  Stener. 

"How  did  he  say  it,  exactly?  What  were  his  exact 
words?"  Shannon  demanded,  emphatically,  pointing  a 
forceful  forefinger  at  Stener  in  order  to  key  him  up  to  a 
clear  memory  of  what  had  transpired. 

"Well,  as  near  as  I  can  remember,  he  said  just  that," 
replied  Stener,  vaguely.  "You  might  as  well  be  tried  for 
stealing  a  sheep  as  a  lamb." 

"Exactly!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Shannon,  whirling  around 
past  the  jury  to  look  at  Cowperwood.  "I  thought  so." 

"Pure  pyrotechnics,  your  honor,"  said  Steger,  rising 
to  his  feet  on  the  instant.  "All  intended  to  prejudice 
the  minds  of  the  jury.  Acting.  I  wish  you  would  cau 
tion  the  counsel  for  the  prosecution  to  confine  himself  to 
the  evidence  in  hand,  and  not  act  for  the  benefit  of  his 
case." 

The  spectators  smiled;  and  Judge  Payderson,  noting 

56? 


THE    FINANCIER 

it,  frowned  severely.  "Do  you  make  that  as  an  objec 
tion,  Mr.  Steger?"  he  asked. 

"I  certainly  do,  your  honor,"  insisted  Steger,  resource 
fully. 

"Objection  overruled.  Neither  counsel  for  the  prose 
cution  nor  for  the  defense  is  limited  to  a  peculiar  routine 
of  expression." 

Steger  himself  was  ready  to  smile,  but  he  did  not  dare 
to. 

When  Mr.  Shannon  was  through  bringing  out  this 
unsatisfactory  data,  Mr.  Steger  took  Mr.  Stener  in  hand ; 
but  he  could  not  make  as  much  out  of  him  as  he  hoped. 
In  so  far  as  this  particular  situation  was  concerned,  Stener 
was  telling  the  exact  truth;  and  it  is  hard  to  weaken  the 
effect  of  the  exact  truth  by  any  subtlety  of  interpretation, 
though  it  can,  sometimes,  be  done.  With  painstaking 
care  Steger  went  over  all  the  ground  of  Stener 's  long  rela 
tionship  with  Cowperwood,  and  tried  to  make  it  appear 
that  Cowperwood  was  invariably  the  disinterested  agent — 
not  the  ringleader  in  a  subtle,  really  criminal  adventure. 
It  was  hard  to  do,  but  he  made  a  fine  impression.  Still 
the  jury  listened  with  skeptical  minds.  It  might  not  be 
fair  to  punish  Cowperwood  for  seizing  with  avidity  upon 
a  splendid  chance  to  get  rich  quick,  they  thought;  but  it 
certainly  was  not  worth  while  to  throw  a  veil  of  innocence 
over  such  palpable  human  cupidity.  Finally,  both  law 
yers  were  through  with  Stener  for  the  time  being,  anyhow, 
and  then  Mr.  Albert  Stires  was  called  to  the  stand. 

He  was  the  same  thin,  pleasant,  alert,  rather  agreeable 
soul  that  he -had  been  in  the  heyday  of  his  clerkly  pros 
perity — a  little  paler  now,  but  not  otherwise  changed. 
His  small  property  had  been  saved  for  him  by  Cowper 
wood,  who  had  advised  Steger  to  inform  the  Municipal 
Reform  Association  that  Stires's  bondsmen  were  attempt 
ing  to  sequestrate  it  for  their  own  benefit,  when  actually  it 
should  go  to  the  city  if  there  were  any  real  claim  against 
him — which  there  was  not.  That  watchful  organization 

568 


THE    FINANCIER 

had  issued  one  of  its  numerous  reports  covering  this 
point,  and  Albert  had  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  Strobik 
and  the  others  withdraw  in  haste.  Naturally  he  was 
grateful  to  Cowperwood,  even  though  once  he  had  been 
compelled  to  cry  in  vain  in  his  presence.  He  was  anxious 
now  to  do  anything  he  could  to  help  the  banker,  but  his 
naturally  truthful  disposition  prevented  him  from  telling 
anything  except  the  plain  facts,  which  were  partly  bene 
ficial  and  partly  not. 

Stires  testified  that  he  recalled  Cowperwood's  saying 
that  he  had  purchased  the  certificates,  that  he  was  en 
titled  to  the  money,  that  Stener  was  unduly  frightened, 
and  that  no  harm  would  come  to  him,  Albert.  He  iden 
tified  certain  memoranda  in  the  city  treasurer's  books, 
which  were  produced,  as  being  accurate,  and  others  in 
Cowperwood's  books,  which  were  also  produced,  as  being 
corroborative.  His  testimony  as  to  Stener's  astonishment 
on  discovering  that  his  chief  clerk  had  given  Cowperwood 
a  check  was  against  the  latter;  but  Cowperwood  hoped 
to  overcome  the  effect  of  this  by  his  own  testimony 
later. 

During  all  the  examination  and  cross-examination  by 
his  lawyer  and  Shannon,  Cowperwood  sat  solemnly  gazing 
at  the  witness.  For  once  he  was  fairly  interested  in  this 
dizzy  process  of  law.  He  could  not  control  this  straight 
forward  flow  of  evidence  by  Albert.  He  did  not  know 
that  he  wanted  to.  In  the  main,  it  was  not  unfavorable. 
Altogether  it  was  a  very  complicated  case,  and  the  jury 
showed  it  in  their  faces.  Up  to  now  both  Steger  and 
Cowperwood  felt  that  they  were  doing  fairly  well,  how 
ever,  and  that  they  need  not  be  surprised  if  they  won 
their  case. 

The  subtlety  of  law! 
19 


CHAPTER  LIV 

THE  trial  moved  on.  The  witnesses  for  the  prosecu 
tion  followed  one  another  until  the  State  had  built 
up  an  arraignment  that  satisfied  Mr.  Dennis  Shannon, 
when  he  announced  that  he  rested.  Steger  at  once  arose 
and  began  a  long  argument  for  the  dismissal  of  the  case, 
but  Judge  Payderson  would  have  none  of  it.  He  knew 
how  important  the  matter  was  in  the  local  political 
world. 

"I  don't  think  you  had  better  go  into  all  that  now, 
Mr.  Steger,"  he  said,  wearily,  after  allowing  him  to 
proceed  a  reasonable  distance.  "I  am  familiar  with  the 
custom  of  the  city,  and  the  indictment  as  here  made 
does  not  concern  the  custom  of  the  city.  I  would  like 
to  hear  your  argument,  but  I  don't  believe  it  will  do 
any  good.  As  I  understand  this  case,  it  is  specifically  a 
question  of  fact — one  fact — namely,  whether  Mr.  Cow- 
perwood,  your  client,  did  or  did  not  on  a  certain  date 
obtain  a  certain  sum  of  money  under  false  pretenses, 
did  or  did  not  fail  to  perform  certain  duties  under  a 
given  agreement — which  in  this  case,  as  I  understand, 
constitutes  the  charge  of  larceny  as  bailee.  Now  I  can't 
enter  into  a  discussion  of  that  before  a  jury  has  had  a 
chance  to  pass  on  the  facts  alleged.  Your  argument  is 
with  the  jury,  not  with  me.  I  couldn't  enter  into  that 
now.  You  may  renew  your  motion  at  the  close  of  the 
defendants'  case.  Motion  denied." 

District- Attorney  Shannon,  who  had  been  listening  at 
tentively,  sat  down.  Steger,  seeing  there  was  no  chance 
to  soften  the  judge's  mind  by  any  subtlety  of  argument, 
returned  to  Cowperwood,  who  smiled  at  the  result. 

570 


TH  E    FI  NANCI  ER 

"We'll  just  have  to  take  our  chances  with  the  jury," 
said  Steger. 

"I  was  sure  of  it,"  replied  his  employer. 

Steger  then  approached  them,  and,  having  outlined  the 
case  briefly  from  his  angle  of  observation,  continued  by 
telling  them  what  he  was  sure  the  evidence  would  show 
from  his  point  of  view. 

"As  a  matter  of  fact,  gentlemen,  there  is  no  essential 
difference  in  the  evidence  which  the  prosecution  can  pre 
sent  and  that  which  we,  the  defense,  can  present.  The 
difference  is  not  so  much  in  testimony,  as  you  will  soon 
see,  for  we  are  not  going  to  dispute  that  Mr.  Cowperwood 
received  a  check  from  Mr.  Stener  for  sixty  thousand  dol 
lars,  or  that  he  failed  to  put  the  certificate  of  city  loan 
which  that  sum  of  money  represented,  and  to  which  he 
was  entitled  in  payment  as  agent,  in  the  sinking-fund, 
which  the  prosecution  now  claims  he  should  have  done; 
we  are  going  to  claim  that  he  had  a  right,  as  the  agent  of 
the  city,  doing,  and  having  done,  business  with  the  city 
through  its  treasury  department  for  four  years,  to  with 
hold,  under  an  agreement  which  he  had  with  the  city 
treasurer,  all  payments  of  money  and  all  deposits  of  cer 
tificates  in  the  sinking-fund  until  the  first  day  of  each 
succeeding  month — the  first  month  following  any  given 
transaction.  The  prosecution  is  going  to  ask  you  to  be 
lieve  that  Mr.  Cowperwood  knew  at  the  time  he  received 
this  check  that  he  was  going  to  fail;  that  he  did  not  buy 
the  certificates,  as  he  claimed,  with  the  view  of  placing 
them  in  the  sinking-fund;  and  that,  knowing  he  was  going 
to  fail,  and  that  he  could  not  subsequently  deposit  them, 
he  deliberately  went  to  Mr.  Albert  Stires,  Mr.  Stener's 
secretary,  told  him  that  he  had  purchased  such  certifi 
cates,  and  on  the  strength  of  a  falsehood,  implied  if  not 
actually  spoken,  secured  the  check,  and  walked  away. 

"Now,  gentlemen,  I  am  not  going  to  enter  into  a  long- 
winded  discussion  of  these  points  at  this  time,  since  the 
testimony  is  going  to  show  very  rapidly  what  the  facts 


THE    FINANCIER 

are.  We  have  a  number  of  witnesses  here,  and  we  are  all 
anxious  to  have  them  heard.  What  I  am  going  to  ask 
you  to  remember  is  that  there  is  not  one  scintilla  of  testi 
mony  outside  of  that  which  may  possibly  be  given  by 
Mr.  George  W.  Stener,  which  will  show  either  that  Mr. 
Cowperwood  knew,  at  the  time  he  called  on  the  city 
treasurer,  that  he  was  going  to  fail,  or  that  he  had  not 
purchased  the  certificates  in  question,  or  that  he  had  not 
the  right  to  withhold  them  from  the  sinking-fund  as  long 
as  he  pleased  up  to  the  first  of  the  month,  the  time  he 
invariably  struck  a  balance  with  the  city.  Mr.  Stener, 
the  ex-city  treasurer,  may  possibly  testify  one  way.  Mr. 
Cowperwood,  on  his  own  behalf,  will  testify  another.  It 
will  then  be  for  you  gentlemen  to  decide  between  them,  to 
decide  which  one  you  prefer  to  believe — Mr.  George  W. 
Stener,  the  ex-city  treasurer,  the  former  commercial  as 
sociate  of  Mr.  Cowperwood,  who,  after  years  and  years  of 
profit,  solely  because  of  conditions  of  financial  stress,  fire, 
and  panic,  preferred  to  turn  on  his  one-time  associate  from 
whose  labors  he  had  reaped  so  much  profit,  or  Mr.  Frank 
A.  Cowperwood,  the  well-known  banker  and  financier,  who 
did  his  best  to  weather  the  storm  alone,  who  fulfilled  to 
the  letter  every  agreement  he  ever  had  with  the  city, 
who  has  even  until  this  hour  been  busy,  unremunerated 
in  his  efforts,  to  remedy,  in  so  far  as  within  him  lies,  the 
unfair  financial  difficulties  forced  upon  him  by  fire  and 
panic,  and  who  only  yesterday  made  an  offer  to  the  city 
that,  if  he  were  allowed  to  continue  in  uninterrupted  con 
trol  of  his  affairs,  and  so  bring  order  out  of  chaos,  he  would 
gladly  repay  as  quickly  as  possible  every  dollar  of  his 
indebtedness  (which  is  really  not  all  his),  including  the 
five  hundred  thousand  dollars  under  discussion  between 
him  and  Mr.  Stener  and  the  city,  and  so  prove  by  his 
works,  not  talk,  that  there  was  no  basis,  in  fact,  for  this 
unfair  suspicion  of  his  motives.  As  you  perhaps  surmise, 
the  city  has  not  chosen  to  accept  his  offer,  and  I  shall 
try  and  tell  you  why  later,  gentlemen.  For  the  present 

572 


THE    FINANCIER 

we  will  proceed  with  the  testimony,  and  for  the  defense 
all  I  ask  is  that  you  give  very  close  attention  to  all  that 
is  testified  to  here  to-day.  Listen  very  carefully  to  Mr. 
W.  C.  Davison  when  he  is  put  on  the  stand  —  study 
him.  Listen  equally  carefully  to  Mr.  Frank  A.  Cowper- 
wood  when  we  call  him  to  testify.  Follow  the  other 
testimony  closely,  and  then  you  will  be  able  to  judge  for 
yourselves.  See  if  you  can  distinguish  a  just  motive  for 
this  prosecution.  I  can't.  I  am  very  much  obliged  to 
you  for  listening  to  me,  gentlemen,  so  carefully." 

He  then,  on  behalf  of  Cowperwood,  put  on  Arthur 
Rivers,  who  had  acted  for  Cowperwood  on  'change  as 
special  agent  during  the  panic,  to  testify  to  the  large 
quantities  of  city  loan  he  had  purchased  to  stay  the 
market;  and  then  after  him,  Cowperwood's  brothers, 
Edward  and  Joseph,  who  had  come  to  court  later  in  the 
day,  and  who  testified  to  instructions  received  from 
Rivers  as  to  buying  and  selling  city  loan  on  that  occa 
sion — principally  buying. 

The  next  witness  after  these  was  President  W.  C. 
Davison  of  the  Girard  National  Bank.  He  was  a  large 
man  physically,  not  so  round  of  body  as  full  and  broad. 
His  shoulders  and  chest  were  ample.  He  had  a  big  blond 
head,  with  an  ample  breadth  of  forehead,  which  was  high 
and  sane-looking.  He  had  a  thick,  squat  nose,  which, 
however,  was  forceful,  and  thin,  firm,  even  lips.  There 
was  the  faintest  touch  of  cynical  humor  in  his  hard  blue 
eyes  at  times;  but  mostly  he  was  friendly,  alert,  placid- 
looking,  without  seeming  in  the  least  sentimental  or 
even  kindly.  His  business,  as  one  could  see  plainly,  was 
to  insist  on  hard  financial  facts,  and  one  could  see  also 
how  he  would  naturally  be  drawn  to  Frank  Algernon 
Cowperwood  without  being  mentally  dominated  or  upset 
by  him.  Cowperwood  had  the  type  of  financial  mind 
which  he  admired.  As  he  took  the  chair  very  quietly, 
and  yet  one  might  say  significantly,  it  was  obvious  that 
he  felt  that  this  sort  of  legal-financial  palaver  was  above 

573 


THE    FINANCIER 

the  average  man  and  beneath  the  dignity  of  a  true  finan 
cier — in  other  words,  a  bother.  The  drowsy  Spark- 
heaver  holding  up  a  Bible  beside  him  for  him  to  swear 
by  might  as  well  have  been  a  block  of  wood.  His  oath 
was  a  personal  matter  with  him.  It  was  good  business 
to  tell  the  truth  at  times.  He  looked  over  to  where 
Cowperwood  sat,  but  did  not  attempt  to  take  his  eye. 
He  knew  that  Cowperwood  knew  that  he  liked  him  and 
would  do  anything  within  the  lines  of  financial  safety 
and  his  personal  comfort  to  assist  him.  His  testimony 
was  very  direct  and  very  simple. 

He  had  known  Mr.  Frank  Algernon  Cowperwood  for 
nearly  ten  years.  He  had  done  business  with  or  through 
him  nearly  all  of  that  time.  He  knew  nothing  of  his 
personal  relations  with  Mr.  Stener,  and  did  not  know 
Mr.  Stener  personally.  As  for  the  particular  check  of 
sixty  thousand  dollars — yes,  he  had  seen  it  before.  It 
had  come  into  the  bank  on  October  loth  along  with  other 
collateral  to  offset  an  overdraft  on  the  part  of  Cowper 
wood  &  Co.  It  was  placed  to  the  credit  of  Cowperwood 
&  Co.  on  the  books  of  the  bank,  and  the  bank  secured 
the  cash  through  the  clearing-house.  No  money  was 
drawn  out  of  the  bank  by  Cowperwood  &  Co.  after 
that  to  create  an  overdraft.  The  bank's  account  with 
Cowperwood  was  squared. 

Nevertheless,  Mr.  Cowperwood  might  have  drawn 
heavily,  and  nothing  would  have  been  thought  of  it. 
Mr.  Davison  did  not  know  that  Mr.  Cowperwood  was 
going  to  fail — did  not  suppose  that  he  could,  so  quickly. 
He  had  frequently  overdrawn  his  account  with  the  bank; 
as  a  matter  of  fact,  it  was  the  regular  course  of  his 
business  to  overdraw  it.  It  kept  his  assets  actively  in 
use,  which  was  the  height  of  good  business.  His  over 
drafts  were  protected  by  collateral,  however,  and  it 
was  his  custom  to  send  bundles  of  collateral  or  checks, 
or  both,  which  were  variously  distributed  to  keep  things 
straight.  Mr.  Cowperwood's  account  was  the  largest  and 

574 


THE    FINANCIER 

most  active  in  the  bank,  Mr.  Davison  kindly  volunteered. 
When  Mr.  Cowperwood  had  failed  there  had  been  over 
ninety  thousand  dollars'  worth  of  certificates  of  city  loan 
in  the  bank's  possession  which  Mr.  Cowperwood  had  sent 
there  as  collateral.  Mr.  Shannon,  on  cross-examination, 
tried  to  find  out  for  the  sake  of  the  effect  on  the  jury 
whether  Mr.  Davison  was  not  for  some  ulterior  motive 
especially  favorable  to  Mr.  Cowperwood.  It  was  not 
possible  for  him  to  do  that.  Mr.  Steger  followed,  and  did 
his  best  to  render  the  favorable  points  made  by  Mr. 
Davison  in  Mr.  Cowperwood's  behalf  perfectly  clear  to 
the  jury  by  having  him  repeat  them.  Mr.  Shannon 
objected,  of  course,  but  it  was  of  no  use.  Mr.  Steger 
managed  to  get  in  his  point. 

Steger  now  decided  to  have  Cowperwood  take  the 
stand,  and  at  the  mention  of  the  latter's  name  in  this 
connection  the  whole  court-room  bristled  up. 

Cowperwood  came  forward  briskly  and  quickly,  and 
one  could  scarcely  expect  a  witness  to  present  a  surer, 
more  effective,  more  reasonable  appearance  on  the  witness- 
stand.  He  was  so  calm,  so  jaunty,  so  defiant  of  life,  and 
yet  so  courteous  to  it.  These  lawyers,  this  jury,  this 
straw-and-water  judge,  these  machinations  of  fate,  did 
not  basically  disturb  or  humble  or  weaken  him.  He  saw 
through  the  mental  equipment  of  the  jury  at  once.  He 
estimated  Mr.  Shannon  and  Mr.  Steger  at  their  true 
and  respective  worths.  He  wanted  to  assist  Mr.  Steger 
to  disturb  and  confuse  Mr.  Shannon,  but  his  reason  told 
him  that  only  an  indestructible  fabric  of  fact  or  seeming 
would  do  it.  He  believed  in  the  financial  Tightness  of 
the  thing  he  had  done.  He  was  entitled  to  do  it.  Life 
was  war — particularly  financial  life;  and  strategy  was 
its  keynote,  its  duty,  its  necessity.  Why  should  he 
bother  about  petty,  picayune  minds  which  could  not 
understand  this?  He  did  not  propose  to  bother.  His 
business  was  to  deceive  or  to  elude  them,  to  feed  their 
voracious  non-understanding  with  a  fat  seeming  of  some 

575 


THE    FI  NANCI  ER 

kind.  Let  them-  be  fed  with  emotional,  sentimental, 
or  academic  straw,  if  possible,  and  be  persuaded  to  be 
lieve  that  it  was  solid  food.  As  for  him,  he  would  go 
his  way,  get  strong  and  powerful,  because  he  could 
not  so  be  fed.  He  went  over  his  history  for  Mr.  Steger 
and  the  jury,  and  put  the  sanest,  most  comfortable  light 
on  it  that  he  could.  He  had  not  gone  to  Mr.  Stener  in 
the  first  place,  he  said — he  had  been  called.  He  had  not 
urged  Mr.  Stener  to  anything.  He  had  merely  shown 
him  and  his  friends  financial  possibilities  which  they 
were  only  too  eager  to  seize  upon.  And  they  had  seized 
upon  them.  (It  was  not  possible  for  Mr.  Shannon  to 
discover  at  this  period  how  subtly  he  had  organized  his 
street-car  companies  so  that  he  could  have  "shaken  out" 
Mr.  Stener  and  his  friends  without  their  being  able  to 
voice  a  single  protest,  so  he  talked  of  these  things  as 
opportunities  which  he  had  made  for  Stener  and  others. 
Mr.  Shannon  was  not  a  financier,  neither  was  Mr.  Steger. 
They  had  to  believe  in  a  way,  though  they  doubted  it, 
partly — particularly  Shannon.)  Cowperwood  was  not  re 
sponsible  for  the  custom  prevailing  in  the  office  of  the  city 
treasurer,  he  said.  He  was  a  banker  and  broker.  The 
jury  looked  at  him,  and  believed  all  except  this  matter 
of  the  sixty-thousand-dollar  check.  When  it  came  to 
that  he  explained  it  all  plausibly  enough.  When  he  had 
gone  to  see  Stener  those  several  last  days,  he  had  not 
fancied  that  he  was  really  going  to  fail.  He  had  asked 
Stener  for  some  money,  it  is  true — not  so  very  much,  all 
things  considered — one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars ; 
but,  as  Stener  should  have  testified,  he  (Cowperwood) 
was  not  disturbed  in  his  manner.  Stener  had  merely 
been  one  resource  of  his.  He  was  satisfied  at  that 
time  that  he  had  many  others.  He  had  not  used 
the  forceful  language  or  made  the  urgent  appeal  which 
Stener  said  he  had,  although  he  had  pointed  out  to 
Stener  that  it  was  a  mistake  to  become  panic-stricken 
in  any  way  or  to  withhold  further  credit.  Stener  was 

5/6 


THE    FINANCIER 

his  easiest,  his  quickest  resource,  but  not  his  only  one. 
He  thought,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  that  his  credit  would  be 
greatly  extended  by  his  principal  money  friends  if  neces 
sary,  and  that  he  would  have  ample  time  to  patch  up 
his  affairs  and  keep  things  going  until  the  storm  should 
blow  over.  He  had  told  Stener  of  his  extended  purchase 
of  city  loan  to  stay  the  market  on  the  first  day  of 
the  panic,  and  of  the  fact  that  sixty  thousand  dollars 
was  due  him.  Stener  had  made  no  objection.  It  was 
just  possible  that  he  was  too  mentally  disturbed  at  the 
time  to  pay  close  attention.  After  that,  to  his,  Cowper- 
wood's,  surprise,  unexpected  pressure  on  great  financial 
houses  from  unexpected  directions  had  caused  them  to  be 
not  willingly  but  unfortunately  severe  with  him.  This 
pressure,  coming  collectively  the  next  day,  had  compelled 
him  to  close  his  doors,  though  he  had  not  really  expected 
to  up  to  the  last  moment.  His  call  for  the  sixty-thousand- 
dollar  check  at  the  time  he  had  called  for  it  was  purely 
fortuitous.  He  needed  the  money,  of  course,  but  it  was 
due  him,  and  his  clerks  were  all  very  busy.  He  merely 
asked  for  and  took  it  personally  to  save  time.  Stener 
knew  if  it  had  been  refused  him  he  would  have  brought 
suit.  The  matter  of  depositing  city  loan  certificates  in 
the  sinking-fund,  when  purchased  for  the  city,  was  some 
thing  to  which  he  never  gave  any  personal  attention 
whatsoever.  His  bookkeeper,  Mr.  Stapley,  attended  to 
all  that.  He  did  not  know,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  that  they 
had  not  been  deposited.  (This  was  a  barefaced  lie.  He 
did  know.)  As  for  the  check  being  turned  over  to  the 
Girard  National  Bank,  that  was  fortuitous.  It  might  just 
as  well  have  been  turned  over  to  some  other  bank  if  the 
conditions  had  been  different. 

He  was  through  finally,  and  the  effect  on  the  jury  of 
his  testimony  and  his  personality  was  peculiar.  The 
young  florist,  Mr.  Richard  Marsh,  with  his  waxen  face 
and  weak  eyes,  believed  that  all  that  he  said  was  quite 
true.  He  had  not  intended  to  rob  the  city  of  sixty  thou- 

577 


THE    FI  NANCI  ER 

sand  dollars.  On  the  other  hand,  a  juror  by  the  name 
of  Moultrie,  the  owner  and  manager  of  a  small  wholesale 
chicken  and  egg  business — Philip  Moultrie,  juror  No.  i — 
studied  Cowperwood 's  face  with  a  great  deal  of  interest, 
and  decided  that  he  was  lying.  He  could  not  see  how  it 
was  possible  that  Cowperwood  could  not  know  the  day 
before  that  he  was  going  to  fail.  He  must  have  known, 
he  thought.  Anyhow,  the  whole  series  of  transactions  be 
tween  him  and  Stener  seemed  deserving  of  some  punish 
ment,  and  all  during  this  testimony  he  was  thinking 
how,  when  he  got  in  the  jury-room,  he  would  vote  guilty. 
He  even  thought  of  some  of  the  arguments  he  would 
use  to  convince  the  others  that  Cowperwood  was  guilty. 
Juror  No.  2,  on  the  contrary,  Simon  Glassberg,  a  clothier, 
thought  he  understood  how  it  all  came  about,  and  de 
cided  to  vote  for  acquittal.  He  did  not  think  Cowper 
wood  was  innocent,  but  he  did  not  think  he  deserved  to 
be  punished.  Juror  No.  3,  Fletcher  Norton,  an  architect, 
thought  Cowperwood  was  guilty,  but  at  the  same  time 
that  he  was  too  talented  to  be  sent  to  prison.  Juror 
No.  4,  Charles  Hillegan,  an  Irishman,  a  contractor,  and 
a  somewhat  religious-minded  person,  thought  Cowper 
wood  was  guilty  and  ought  to  be  punished.  Juror  No.  5, 
Philip  Lukash,  a  coal  merchant,  thought  he  was  guilty, 
and  at  present  he  thought  little  more  about  it.  Juror 
No.  6,  Benjamin  Fraser,  a  mining  expert,  thought  he 
was  probably  guilty,  but  he  could  not  be  sure.  Un 
certain  what  he  would  do,  juror  No.  7,  J.  J.  Bridges, 
a  broker  in  Third  Street,  small,  practical,  narrow,  thought 
Cowperwood  was  shrewd  and  guilty  and  deserved  to  be 
punished.  He  would  vote  for  his  punishment.  Juror 
No.  8,  Guy  E.  Tripp,  general  manager  of  a  small  steam 
boat  company,  was  uncertain.  Cowperwood  might  or 
might  not  be  guilty.  He  did  not  know.  Juror  No.  9, 
Joseph  Tisdale,  a  retired  glue  manufacturer,  thought 
Cowperwood  was  probably  guilty  as  charged,  but  to 
Tisdale  it  was  no  crime.  Cowperwood  was  entitled  to  do 

578 


THE    FINANCIER 

as  he  had  done  under  the  circumstances.  Tisdale  would 
vote  for  his  acquittal.  Juror  No.  10,  Richard  Marsh,  the 
young  florist,  was,  as  we  have  seen,  for  Cowperwood  in 
a  sentimental  way.  He  had,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  no 
real  convictions.  Juror  No.  n,  Richard  Webber,  a 
grocer,  small  financially,  but  heavy  physically,  was 
for  Cowperwood's  conviction.  He  thought  him  guilty. 
"He  is  guilty,"  he  said  to  himself,  stoutly.  Juror  No. 
12,  Washington  B.  Thomas,  a  wholesale  flour  merchant, 
thought  Cowperwood  was  guilty,  but  believed  in  a  recom 
mendation  to  mercy  after  pronouncing  him  so.  Men 
ought  to  be  reformed,  was  his  slogan. 

So  they  stood,  and  so  Cowperwood  left  them,  wonder 
ing  whether  anything  he  had  said  had  had  a  favorable 
effect  or  not. 


CHAPTER  LV 

THE  legal  arguments  for  the  defendant  and  for  the 
State  had  drawn  to  their  weary  close;  both  Steger 
and  Shannon  had  done  their  best  with  the  evidence  at 
their  command,  and  the  case  was  ready  to  go  to  the  jury. 
It  had  grown  quite  dark,  and  by  the  flare  of  the  street 
lamps  outside  one  could  see  that  it  was  snowing.  The 
judge  stirred  among  his  papers,  turned  solemnly  to  the 
jurors,  and  began  the  customary  explanation  of  the  law 
known  as  his  instructions.  This  formality  occupied  some 
twenty  minutes,  during  which  time  Cowperwood  looked 
at  the  jury  curiously,  wondering  what  they  had  actually 
thought — were  thinking.  What  would  they  decide?  He 
sat  and  meditated  on  this  while  Judge  Payderson  finished 
his  instructions  and  asked  the  jury  to  retire,  which  they 
did,  passing  down  a  side  aisle  toward  which  Cowperwood 
was  facing.  Judge  Payderson  left  the  bench  for  the 
time  being.  Cowperwood  then  turned  to  his  father, 
who  now  came  over  across  the  fast-emptying  court,  and 
said: 

"Well,  we'll  know  now  in  a  little  while  all  about  this." 
"Yes,"  replied  Cowperwood,  Sr.,  a  little  wearily.     "I 
hope  it  comes  out  right.     I  saw  Butler  back  there  a  little 
while  ago." 

"Did  you?"  queried  Cowperwood,  to  whom  this  had 
a  peculiar  interest. 

"Yes,"  replied  his  father.     "He's  just  gone." 

So,  Cowperwood  thought,  Butler  was  curious  enough 

as  to  his  fate  to  want  to  come  here  and  watch  him  tried. 

He  had  slipped  in,  not  expecting  to  be  seen,  possibly. 

Shannon  was  his  tool,    Judge  Payderson  was  his  emissary, 

580 


THE    FINANCIER 

in  a  way.  He,  Cowperwood,  might  defeat  him  in  the 
matter  of  his  daughter,  but  it  was  not  so  easy  to  defeat 
him  here  unless  the  jury  should  happen  to  take  a  sym 
pathetic  attitude.  They  might  convict  him,  and  then 
Butler's  Judge  Payderson  would  have  the  privilege  of 
sentencing  him — giving  him  the  maximum  of  sentence. 
That  would  not  be  so  nice — five  years!  He  cooled  a 
little  as  he  thought  of  it,  but  there  was  no  use  worrying 
about  what  had  not  yet  happened.  Steger  came  forward 
and  told  him  that  his  bail  was  now  ended — had  been  the 
moment  the  jury  left  the  room — and  that  he  was  at  this 
moment  actually  in  the  care  of  the  sheriff,  whom  he 
knew — Sheriff  Adlai  Jaspers.  Unless  he  were  acquitted 
by  the  jury,  Steger  added,  he  would  have  to  remain  in  the 
sheriff's  care  until  an  application  for  a  certificate  of  reason 
able  doubt  could  be  made  and  acted  upon. 

He  and  Cowperwood  and  the  latter's  father  now  stalked 
off  with  the  sheriff's  subordinate — a  small  man  by  the 
name  of  "Eddie"  Zanders,  who  had  approached  to  take 
charge.  They  entered  a  small  room  called  the  pen  at 
the  back  of  the  court,  where  all  those  on  trial  whose  liberty 
had  been  forfeited  by  the  jury's  leaving  the  room  had  to 
wait  pending  its  return.  It  was  a  dreary,  high-ceiled, 
four-square  place,  with  a  window  looking  out  into  Chest 
nut  Street,  and  a  second  door  leading  off  into  somewhere 
— one  had  no  idea  where.  It  was  dingy,  with  a  worn 
wooden  floor,  some  heavy,  plain,  wooden  benches  lining 
the  four  sides,  no  pictures  or  ornaments  of  any  kind. 
A  single  two-arm  gas-pipe  descended  from  the  center  of 
the  ceiling.  It  was  permeated  by  a  peculiarly  stale 
and  pungent  odor,  obviously  redolent  of  all  the  flotsam 
and  jetsam  of  life — criminal  and  innocent — that  had 
stood  or  sat  in  here  from  time  to  time,  waiting  patiently 
to  learn  what  a  deliberating  fate  held  in  store. 

Cowperwood  was,  of  course,  disgusted;  but  he  was  too 
self-reliant  and  capable  to  show  it.  All  his  life  he  had 
been  immaculate,  almost  fastidious  in  his  care  of  himself. 

581 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

Here  he  was  coming,  perforce,  in  contact  with  a  form  of 
life  to  which  he  objected  very  much,  and  it  jarred  upon 
him  greatly.  Jails,  penitentiaries — they  were  compound 
ed  of  atmospheres  like  this.  Horrible !  And  this  was  only 
a  brief  foretaste  of  what,  in  the  uncomfortable  providence 
of  chance,  might  become  in  a  few  moments  a  more  en 
during  reality.  Five  days — in  a  little  while  longer,  years. 
Ghastly!  His  jaw  stiffened,  and  he  pulled  himself  to 
gether  in  order  not  to  make  some  remark  which  would 
show  that  he  was  thinking  of  this.  Steger,  who  was 
beside  him,  very  cheerful  and  optimistic,  made  some  com 
forting,  explanatory,  apologetic  remarks. 

"Not  as  nice  as  it  might  be,"  he  said;  "but  you  won't 
mind  waiting  a  little  while.  The  jury  won't  be  long,  I 
fancy." 

"That  may  not  help  me,"  he  replied,  walking  to  the 
window.  Afterward  he  added:  "What  must  be,  must 
be." 

His  father  winced.  Suppose  Frank  was  on  the  verge 
of  a  long  prison  term,  which  meant  an  atmosphere  like 
this.  Good  heavens!  For  a  moment  he  trembled;  then, 
for  the  first  time  in  years,  he  made  a  silent  prayer — an 
appeal,  which  prayer  is. 

Meanwhile  the  great  argument  had  been  begun  in  the 
jury-room,  and  all  the  points  that  had  been  meditatively 
speculated  upon  in  the  jury-box  were  now  being  openly 
discussed  here.  The  man  who  is  supposed  to  take  charge 
of  the  jury  in  the  jury-room,  and  in  a  way  to  organize  it 
— a  purely  perfunctory  labor — is  juror  No.  i — in  this 
instance  Philip  Moultrie,  the  wholesale  chicken  and  egg 
dealer;  but  because  he  was  a  little  backward  Mr.  Simon 
Glassberg,  who  had  served  on  many  juries,  spoke  up  and 
said  he  thought  that  the  best  way  to  begin  would  be  to 
take  a  ballot. 

"Dot's  de  way  we  usually  work  on  juries,"  he  volun 
teered  with  a  slightly  German  accent,  and  genially  offered 
around  some  cigars.  -All  but  Webber,  the  grocer,  and 

582 


THE    FINANCIER 

Washington  Thomas  had  cigars  of  their  own,  and  pro 
duced  them;  but  these  two  accepted.  Richard  Marsh,  the 
young  florist,  who  had  been  persuaded  in  a  way  by  Cow- 
perwood's  looks,  at  first  had  been  shaken  a  little  in  his 
faith  by  Shannon's  sneering  attack.  Marsh  was  not  much 
of  a  personality,  all  told — not  much  of  an  individuality. 
Mr.  Moultrie,  having  had  his  duty,  or  rather  the  custom 
of  his  position,  indicated  to  him  by  Mr.  Glassberg,  took 
his  seat  in  the  central  chair,  and  said  he  would  ask  all 
those  in  favor  of  acquittal  to  hold  up  their  hands.  The 
first  ballot  stood:  Guilty,  7;  Not  Guilty,  5 — a  curious 
result  of  the  general  cogitations  of  the  jury  up  to  this 
time,  which  needs  to  be  explained. 

Although  the  law  provides  that  it  must  never  be  known 
who  voted  how  on  any  jury,  whatever  the  result,  it  is 
permissible  to  explain  in  this  instance.  Philip  Moultrie; 
Charles  Hillegan,  the  Irish- American  contractor;  Philip 
Lukash,  the  coal  merchant;  Benjamin  Fraser,  the  young 
mining  expert;  J.  J.  Bridges,  the  little  broker;  Richard 
Webber,  the  grocer,  and  Washington  B.  Thomas,  the  flour 
merchant,  all  voted  guilty  for  various  and  sundry  reasons 
— some  positively,  some  uncertainly,  some  tentatively.  On 
the  other  hand,  Simon  Glassberg,  the  Jew  clothier;  Fletcher 
Norton,  the  architect;  Guy  E.  Tripp,  the  steamboat 
manager;  Joseph  Tisdale,  the  rather  old,  retired  glue 
manufacturer;  and  Richard  Marsh,  the  uncertain  young 
florist,  all  voted  not  guilty.  Young  Marsh's  vote  was 
very  uncertain.  Fletcher  Norton's  was  rather  positive. 
On  the  other  side,  Benjamin  Fraser  was  not  at  all  certain, 
and  Washington  B.  Thomas  was  thinking  hard.  The 
others  were  fairly  well  fixed.  Guy  E.  Tripp  was  not  cer 
tain.  He  was  trying  to  think  that  Cowperwood  deserved 
a  show;  but  he  really  did  not  believe  it.  His  conscience 
was  troubling  him.  On  argument  he  would  change  his 
vote,  and  he  felt  it. 

It  is  amazingly  interesting  to  see  how  a  jury  will  waver 
and  speculate  in  a  case  like  this — how  curious  and  uncer- 

583 


THE    FINANCIER 

tain  is  the  process  by  which  it  makes  up  its  so-called  mind. 
So-called  truth  is  such  a  nebulous  thing  at  best;  facts 
are  capable  of  such  curious  inversion  and  interpretation, 
honest  and  otherwise.  This  jury  had  a  strongly  com 
plicated  problem  before  it,  and  it  went  over  it  and  over 
it,  one  juror  after  another  venturing  a  thought,  one  juror 
after  another  asking  a  question. 

"Isn't  it  a  fact,"  asked  J.  J.  Bridges,  in  one  place, 
his  little  red-rimmed  eyes  taking  in  his  fellow-jurors 
smartly — quite  like  an  impertinent  crow — "that  we  have 
to  decide  this  question  solely  on  the  evidence  as  to  whether 
Cowperwood  did  or  did  not  take  that  sixty-thousand-dol 
lar  check  after  he  knew  he  was  going  to  fail,  and  whether 
he  had  or  had  not  put  the  certificates  he  said  he  had  pur 
chased  in  the  sinking-fund?  There  isn't  any  other  ques 
tion,  is  there?  His  early  dealings  with  Stener  haven't 
anything  to  do  with  this  trial,  as  I  understand  it.  Wasn't 
that  what  Judge  Payderson  pointed  out?" 

"It  was,"  echoed  Charles  Hillegan,  the  contractor, 
with  a  faint  Irish  tinge  in  his  voice.  You  could  have 
read  conviction  in  that  voice  if  you  had  heard  it — Cow 
perwood 's  fate. 

"It's  quite  true,"  observed  Simon  Glassberg,  gen 
erously,  "dot  technically  speaking  we  can  only  consider 
dose  facts  what  you  mention,  but  hactually  we  gotta 
look  at  de  t'ing  as  a  whole.  Dose  two  fellows  were 
doing  business  togedder.  Dey  weren't  observing  de 
law,  ever.  But  dey  didn't  start  dis  business  in  de  first 
place.  Udder  city  treasurers  and  brokers  done  dot 
before  dey  did.  I  doan'd  see  but  what,  under  de  circum 
stances,  Cowperwood  had  a  right  to  expect  dot  de  udder 
feller  would  stand  by  him.  If  he  had  I  guess  he  wouldn't 
be  in  no  position  like  vot  he  is  to-day.  Anyhow,  dot's 
de  way  I  feel  about  it.  He  may  be  guilty — all  right. 
I  t'ink  he  is.  But  do  we  want  to  punish  him — dot's  de 
question.  It  ain'd  de  same  as  if  he  broke  into  a  house  and 
took  free  hundred  dollars  or  knocked  a  man  down  on  de 

584 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

street  and  robbed  him.  You  gotta  look  at  de  way  de 
whole  t'ing  come  about.  He  wouldn't  'a'  took  de  sixty 
t'ousand  dollars  if  he  hadn't  been  doin'  business  with  de 
city  treasury  in  dot  way,  dot's  one  t'ing  sure." 

Mr.  Glassberg  went  on  to  speculate  more  in  this  vein, 
but  he  was  interrupted  by  Mr.  Washington  B.  Thomas, 
the  flour  merchant,  whose  ordinary  commercial  manner 
had  long  since  been  glossed  over  by  a  rather  philosophic 
air.  He  was  inclined  to  look  very  wisely  and  quizzically 
over  his  spectacles. 

"Gentlemen,"  he  said,  pleasantly,  "I  think  we  will 
have  to  look  at  this  question  from  many  points  of  view 
before  we  can  reach  a  decision.  There  is  no  doubt 
in  my  mind  that  there  is  much  to  be  said  for  the  first 
gentleman's  argument — I  don't  know  your  name,"  he 
paused,  catching  Mr.  Bridges's  eye. 

"Bridges  is  my  name — J.  J.  Bridges." 

"There  is  much  to  be  said  for  Mr.  Bridges's  point, 
and  equally  as  much  I  think  for  Mister" — he  turned  to 
Glassberg,  who  supplied  his  own  name  promptly — "for 
Mr.  Glassberg's.  There  is  something  in  both  these  points 
of  view.  No  doubt  legally  we  must  adhere  strictly  to 
the  evidence  concerning  the  actual  transfer  of  this  check, 
and  no  doubt  morally  we  ought  to  think  of  what  Mr. 
Glassberg  suggests.  In  addition,  I  believe  we  ought 
to  consider  Mr.  Cowperwood  himself,  his  moral  reforma 
tion,  and  the  justice  we  owe  to  the  city  of  Phila 
delphia.  As  I  look  on  it  now,  it  strikes  me  that  Mr. 
Cowperwood  and  Mr.  Stener  are  men  without  any  moral 
conscience  whatsoever.  They  don't  seem  to  know  or 
to  have  known  what  respect  for  law  is.  There  is  no 
question  in  anybody's  mind,  I  presume,  that  these  two 
men  and  all  the  other  men  that  were  associated  with  them 
knew  what  they  were  doing.  That  is,  they  knew  they  were 
breaking  the  law.  But  you  see,  so  far  as  the  evidence 
shows,  it  didn't  make  any  difference  to  either  of  them. 
I  don't  suppose  Mr.  Cowperwood  or  Mr.  Stener  ever 

585 


THE    FI  NANCI  ER 

thought  of  the  people  of  Philadelphia  or  the  fact  that  the 
money  they  were  risking  didn't  belong  to  them." 

"They  did  not,"  suggested  Mr.  Hillegan,  the  Irishman, 
emphatically.  Mr.  Hillegan's  manner  amused  Mr.  Fletcher 
Norton,  who  smiled  to  himself  delightedly.  None  of  the 
others  seemed  to  notice  it. 

"And  I  don't  suppose,"  continued  Mr.  Thomas,  "that 
they  would  have  cared  if  they  had  thought.  The  rights 
of  the  people  who  make  up  the  city  of  Philadelphia 
would  not  have  meant  anything  to  either  of  them.  It  was 
their  own  advancement  they  were  seeking  at  the  expense 
of  everybody,  and  they  thought  that  was  just  right. 
Now  the  question  is,  to  my  mind,  What  are  you  going 
to  do  with  a  man  when  you  catch  him  red-handed  in  a 
thing  of  that  sort?  I  know  there  are  plenty  of  people 
nowadays  who  believe  that  he  is  justified  in  such  conduct — 
looking  after  himself  regardless  of  everybody  else;  but 
where  is  the  limit?  What  laws,  if  any,  do  you  or  don't 
you  have  to  obey  ?  Isn't  there  a  duty  that  comes  in  here 
somewhere  to  other  people — to  the  city  of  Philadelphia, 
for  instance?  And  if  a  man  hasn't  that  sense  of  duty  to 
his  fellow-men,  how  are  you  going  to  give  it  to  him? 
When  you  catch  somebody  like  Cowperwood  or  Stener, 
what  are  you  going  to  do  with  him — turn  him  loose  again  ? 
Will  he  do  any  better  if  you  don't  punish  him?  Will  he 
have  any  sense  of  duty,  any  conscience,  in  the  future?" 

He  paused  and  looked  around,  and  found  that  he  had 
interested  the  whole  company  of  men.  They  were  look 
ing  at  him  as  a  thinker,  or  at  least  that  rara  avis,  a  man 
with  convictions.  Mr.  Thomas  was  a  rather  well-set 
up  man  of  fifty-five,  with  a  full  but  not  over-heavy 
body  of  perhaps  five  feet  nine  inches  tall  and  a  nicely 
proportioned  Socrates-like  head.  He  wore  a  full  beard 
and  mustache  —  cut  rather  close,  though  —  and  a  pair 
of  black-steel-rimmed  spectacles.  His  hair  and  beard 
were  blackish  gray,  and  his  whole  make-up  breathed  a 
certain  well-preserved  vitality  of  body  and  solidarity  of 

586 


THE    FINANCIER 

thought.  He  was  quite  a  personage,  intellectually,  even 
if  he  was  a  flour  merchant. 

"Gentlemen,  I  suggest  dot  we  take  anodder  vote," 
observed  Mr.  Glassberg;  and  at  this  Mr.  Moultrie,  seeing 
how  the  previous  vote  had  gone,  asked  all  those  in  favor 
of  conviction  to  raise  their  hands.  All  but  Mr.  Glassberg 
and  Mr.  Tisdale  did  so. 

The  jurors  heaved  a  kind  of  sigh.  They  were  glad  (the 
majority)  that  the  general  consensus  of  opinion  was 
shaping  up. 

"Well,  that  makes  ten  to  two  for  conviction,  gentle 
men,"  observed  Mr.  Moultrie,  in  a  rather  naive  though 
sufficiently  business-like  manner.  It  is  amazing  how  a 
manner  sometimes  persists  under  the  most  outre  cir 
cumstances.  "Can't  we  get  together  on  this,  gentlemen, 
and  agree  to  make  it  unanimous?  None  of  us  wants  to 
stay  here  any  longer  than  we  can  help." 

Fletcher  Norton  got  up,  strolled  to  the  window,  and 
announced  that  it  was  snowing  hard.  He  extracted  a 
cigarette  from  his  case  and  lit  it.  Charles  Hillegan  and 
Philip  Lukash,  who  sat  beside  him,  joined  in  a  private 
conversation,  agreeing  that  there  was  no  question  as  to 
Cowperwood's  guilt,  and  wondering  how  any  of  the  jurors 
could  stand  out.  Simon  Glassberg  and  J.  J.  Bridges 
joined  in  an  issue  as  to  facts,  and  Guy  E.  Tripp  sought 
out  Washington  B.  Thomas  for  further  confirmation  of 
his  wavering  mind.  Mr.  Webber  sat  alone  smoking  sol 
emnly,  and  when  Benjamin  Fraser  tried  to  strike  up  a 
conversation  with  him  it  was  without  much  success.  He 
wasn't  very  bright,  and  his  ideas  about  life  in  general  were 
few  and  fixed.  Mr.  Richard  Marsh,  the  florist,  went  over 
to  listen  to  the  discussion  between  J.  J.  Bridges  and  Simon 
Glassberg. 

It  is  curious  what  it  is  that  causes  juries  to  reach  not 
so  much  definite  conclusions  as  verdicts.  Very  often  a 
jury  will  have  concluded  little  so  far  as  its  individual 
members  are  concerned,  when  yet  it  will  have  reached 

•587 


THE    FINANCIER 

a  verdict.  The  matter  of  time,  as  all  lawyers  know, 
plays  a  part  in  this.  Juries,  speaking  of  the  members 
collectively  and  frequently  individually,  object  to  the 
amount  of  time  it  sometimes  takes  to  decide  a  case. 
They  do  not  enjoy  sitting  and  deliberating  over  a  problem 
unless  it  is  tremendously  fascinating.  The  ramifications 
of  the  mystery  or  the  syllogism  become  a  weariness 
and  a  bore.  The  jury-room  itself  becomes  a  dull  agony. 
They  become  sick  of  every  detail.  On  the  other  hand, 
no  jury  contemplates  a  disagreement  with  any  degree 
of  satisfaction.  There  is  something  so  inherently  con 
structive  in  the  human  mind  that  to  leave  a  problem 
unsolved  is  plain  misery.  It  haunts  the  average  in 
dividual  like  any  other  important  task  left  unfinished. 
Men  in  a  jury-room,  like  those  scientifically  demon 
strated  atoms  of  a  crystal  which  scientists  and  philoso 
phers  love  to  speculate  upon,  love  finally  to  arrange  them 
selves  into  an  orderly  and  artistic  whole,  to  present  a 
compact,  intellectual  front,  to  be  whatever  they  have 
set  out  to  be,  properly  and  right — a  compact,  sensible 
jury.  One  sees  this  same  instinct  magnificently  dis 
played  in  every  other  phase  of  nature — in  the  drifting  of 
sea-wood  to  the  Sargasso  Sea,  in  the  geometric  inter 
relation  of  air-bubbles  on  the  surface  of  still  water,  in 
the  marvelous  unreasoned  architecture  of  so  many  insects 
and  atomic  forms  which  make  up  the  substance  and  the 
texture  of  this  world.  It  would  seem  as  though  the 
physical  substance  of  life — this  apparition  of  form  which 
the  eye  detects  and  calls  real — were  shot  through  with 
some  vast  subtlety  that  loves  order,  that  is  order.  The 
atoms  of  our  so-called  being,  in  spite  of  our  so-called 
reason — the  dreams  of  a  mood — know  where  to  go  and 
what  to  do.  They  represent  an  order,  a  wisdom,  a  will 
ing  that  is  not  of  us.  They  build  orderly  in  spite  of  us. 
So  the  subconscious  spirit  of  a  jury.  At  the  same  time, 
one  does  not  forget  the  strange  hypnotic  effect  of  one 
personality  on  another,  the  varying  effects  of  varying 

588 


THE    FINANCIER 

types  on  each  other,  until  a  solution — to  use  the  work 
in  its  purely  chemical  sense — is  reached.  In  a  jury-room 
the  thought  or  determination  of  one  or  two  or  three 
men,  if  it  be  definite  enough,  is  likely  to  pervade  the 
whole  room  and  conquer  the  reason  or  the  opposition 
of  the  majority.  One  man  ' '  standing  out ' '  for  the  definite 
thought  that  is  in  him  is  apt  to  become  either  the  tri 
umphant  leader  of  a  pliant  mass  or  the  brutally  battered 
target  of  a  flaming,  concentrated  intellectual  fire.  Men 
despise  dull  opposition  that  is  without  reason.  In  a  jury- 
room,  of  all  places,  a  man  is  expected  to  give  a  reason  for 
the  faith  that  is  in  him — if  one  is  demanded.  It  will 
not  do  to  say,  "  I  cannot  agree."  Jurors  have  been  known 
to  fight.  The  bitterest  antagonisms  have  been  gener 
ated  in  these  close  quarters  which  have  lasted  for  years. 
Recalcitrant  jurors  have  been  hounded  commercially  in 
their  local  spheres  for  their  unreasoned  oppositions  or 
conclusions.  Men  in  jury-rooms  want  thought,  expla 
nation,  agreement;  and  if  they  cannot  have  it  they 
become  sullen,  darkling,  bitter,  like  stagnant  water. 


CHAPTER  LVI 

PHIS  general  discussion  ended  in  nothing  special.  All 
1  the  phases  of  the  trial  were  gone  over  in  detail  by 
one  group  and  another.  Richard  Marsh,  by  listening  to 
Simon  Glassberg  and  J.  J.  Bridges  arguing,  was  left 
mentally  about  where  he  was  before.  He  had  voted  both 
guilty  and  not  guilty,  and  still  he  was  not  quite  certain. 
Guy  E.  Tripp,  the  spare  general  manager  of  the  Delaware 
Navigation  Company,  after  his  extended  conversation 
with  Washington  B.  Thomas,  was  considerably  com 
forted.  These  men  were  somewhat  alike  in  their  specu 
lative  mental  attitude,  only  Thomas  was  more  of  the 
clear  reasoner,  speaking  from  an  idealistic  standpoint. 
Simon  Glassberg,  for  all  his  vulgarity  of  address,  had 
more  of  the  realist's  clearness  of  vision.  The  trouble 
with  Glassberg  was  that  if  he  found  himself  in  a  hopeless 
minority  for  long  he  was  apt  to  compromise — to  give 
the  game  to  the  majority  merely  because  it  was  the 
majority  and  because  he  did  not  care  to  clog  up  the 
processes  of  life,  whatever  they  might  be — good,  bad,  or 
indifferent. 

Joseph  Tisdale,  who  had  voted  not  guilty,  Philip  Moul- 
trie,  and  Fletcher  Norton  had  joined  in  an  interesting 
argument  finally  as  to  whether  the  court  had  insisted, 
as  Mr.  Bridges  had  explained  at  the  opening  of  these  de 
liberations,  that  only  the  proof  as  to  whether  Cowper- 
wood  had  or  had  not  received  the  check  as  testified,  and 
whether  he  had  or  had  not  deposited  the  city  loan  cer 
tificates  as  required  by  law,  was  to  rule  in  reaching  a 
verdict.  Were  none  of  his  previous  relations  with  Stener 
to  weigh  in  the  matter?  Tisdale  insisted  they  must. 

590 


THE    FINANCIER 

Philip  Moultrie  declared  no.  Simon  Glassberg  and  J.  J. 
Bridges  came  up  finally,  and  the  second  very  interesting 
question  was  raised  as  to  whether  this  should  not  be 
referred  back  to  Judge  Payderson  for  further  instructions. 
Charles  Hillegan  and  Philip  Lukash,  who  had  agreed 
absolutely  as  to  Cowperwood's  guilt,  were  not  certain 
now  as  to  whether  one  could  reasonably  find  him  guilty 
on  all  four  counts.  Although  they  had  heard  quite  clearly 
what  the  court  had  said,  they  decided  that  the  judge 
might  have  meant  something  else.  There  was  a  solemn 
filing  out  in  the  lonely,  poorly  lighted  court-room;  then 
after  a  time  the  rather  morose  and  disgruntled  return 
of  Judge  Payderson,  who  went  over  the  situation  again 
at  length,  trying  to  clear  up  their  minds,  and  finally  sent 
them  back.  Cowperwood  was  not  in  the  room  at  the 
time,  and  he  was  a  little  disturbed  when  he  learned  that 
the  jury  had  been  in.  It  looked  ominous,  but  Steger 
assured  him  that  juries  frequently  came  back  for  further 
instructions,  and  then  disagreed.  It  was  not  a  bad  sign 
at  all.  So  they  continued  to  wait  in  the  bare,  dreary 
pen,  lighted  by  a  thin  two-jet  gas-arm,  while  the  jury 
went  on  with  its  deliberations. 

The  argument  in  the  jury-room  again  waxed  strong 
and  importunate.  Simon  Glassberg  contended  solemnly 
that,  in  spite  of  the  instructions  of  the  court,  the  jury 
should  think  of  how  Cowperwood  had  assisted  Stener  and 
vote  not  guilty — give  him  another  chance.  Joseph  Tis- 
dale  said  he  thought  it  was  a  shame  to  punish  a  man  for 
doing  exactly  what  any  other  man  would  do  under  the 
circumstances.  During  the  drag  of  moments  and  half- 
hours  those  who  had  made  up  their  minds  conclusively 
came  to  feel  sick  of  the  waste  of  time.  Why  sit  here  and 
cogitate  when  ten  men,  all  equally  good  in  brain  and  un 
derstanding  of  life,  were  agreed  that  the  defendant  was 
guilty  ?  Why  keep  ten  good  men,  tried  and  true,  waiting  ? 
Philip  Moultrie  was  anxious  to  get  home  to  his  wife  and 
his  comfortable  bed.  Fletcher  Norton  had  originally 

S9i 


THE    FINANCIER 

planned  an  evening  at  his  club,  and  was  now  restless 
and  irritated.  Simon  Glassberg  felt  this,  and  began 
to  waver.  If  ten  men  felt  so  strongly  about  this,  why 
shouldn't  he  give  in?  Why  argue?  Cowperwood  was 
not  innocent,  by  any  means.  A  recommendation  to 
the  court  for  mercy  would  do  as  well,  or  nearly  so.  Still 
Joseph  Tisdale's  determination  to  stick  strengthened  him 
for  a  time.  After  a  third,  a  fourth,  a  fifth,  and  a  sixth 
ballot,  in  which  the  vote  stood  ten  to  two,  and  much 
argument  was  indulged  in — even  some  hard  feeling — 
Glassberg  finally  shifted,  saying:  "Veil,  I  doaned  want  to 
stand  out  if  all  you  fellers  feel  dis  way.  I  t'ink  we  ought 
to  ask  de  court  to  be  lenient,  dough." 

Joseph  Tisdale  was  all  alone  now,  and  an  interesting 
but  sorry  fight  he  made  of  it.  He  was  not  a  strong  man 
physically.  He  was  no  longer  young,  and  he  did  not 
believe  that  Cowperwood  was  innocent.  He  merely  felt 
that  he  was  able  and  deserving.  It  seemed  such  a  shame 
to  him,  though,  to  punish  a  man  for  doing  exactly  what 
any  other  man  would  do  under  the  same  circumstances. 
He  saw  Cowperwood's  position  as  a  whole.  Still,  he  did 
not  know  the  man  from  any  other  man.  He  had  never 
seen  him  before.  He  had  merely  read  about  him.  It  was 
now  ten-thirty.  Tisdale  faced  the  united  gaze  of  Philip 
Moultrie,  Philip  Lukash,  Charles  Hillegan,  Richard  Web 
ber,  and  J.  J.  Bridges,  and  these  men  were  determined. 
The  others  were  not  so  significant  for  some  reason,  and 
yet  the  attitudes  of  Washington  B.  Thomas  and  Guy  E. 
Tripp  appealed  to  him  more.  They  talked  about  the 
mercy  of  the  court  and  the  duty  of  the  jury  to  Philadel 
phia,  etc.  About  midnight  he  yielded,  and  then  only  be 
cause  he  wondered  why  he  was  fighting  so  hard  for  Cow 
perwood,  who  was  nothing  to  him,  and  why  he  should 
thus  inconvenience  himself  when  he  was  so  very  tired. 
Perhaps,  after  all,  Cowperwood  deserved  some  punish 
ment.  There  was  more  wrangling  now  as  to  whether  the 
verdict  should  be  guilty  on  all  four  counts,  as  charged  in 

592 


THE    FINANCIER 

the  indictment.  Since  the  jury  did  not  understand  how 
to  differentiate  between  the  various  charges  very  well, 
they  decided  it  should  be  on  all  four,  and  a  recommenda 
tion  to  mercy  added.  Afterward  this  last  was  eliminated, 
however;  either  he  was  guilty  or  he  was  not.  The  judge 
could  see  as  well  as  they  could  all  the  extenuating  cir 
cumstances — perhaps  better.  Why  tie  his  hands  ?  As  a  rule 
no  attention  was  paid  to  such  recommendations,  anyhow, 
and  it  only  made  the  jury  look  wabbly.  So,  finally,  at 
ten  minutes  after  twelve,  they  were  ready  to  return  a 
verdict;  and  Judge  Payderson,  who,  because  of  his  interest 
in  the  case  and  the  fact  that  he  lived  not  so  far  away, 
had  decided  to  wait  up  this  long,  was  recalled.  Steger 
and  Cowperwood  were  sent  for.  The  court-room  was 
fully  lighted.  The  bailiff,  the  clerk,  and  the  stenographer 
were  there.  The  jury  filed  in,  and  Cowperwood,  with 
Steger  at  his  right,  took  his  position  at  the  gate  which 
gave  into  the  railed  space,  where  prisoners  always  stand 
to  hear  the  verdict  and  listen  to  any  commentary  of  the 
judge.  He  was  accompanied  by  his  father,  who  was  very 
nervous. 

He  stood  here  now,  looking  at  this  jury,  the  members 
of  which  did  not  look  at  him,  waiting  for  Judge  Payder 
son  and  wondering  what  they  had  really  decided.  For 
the  first  time  in  his  life  he  felt  as  though  he  were  walk 
ing  in  his  sleep.  Was  this  the  real  Frank  Cowperwood  of 
two  months  before — so  wealthy,  so  progressive,  so  sure? 
Was  this  only  December  5th  or  6th  now  (it  was  after  mid 
night)  ?  And  on  October  5th  last  he  was  unconscious  that 
the  Chicago  fire  was  about  to  break  out.  Why  was  it 
the  jury  had  deliberated  so  long?  What  did  it  mean? 
Here  it  was  midnight  and  they  had  just  agreed — this  mid 
night  jury.  Here  they  were  now,  standing  and  gazing 
solemnly  before  them;  and  here  now  was  Judge  Payder 
son,  mounting  the  steps  of  his  rostrum,  his  frizzled  hair 
standing  out  in  a  strange,  attractive  way,  his  familiar 
bailiff  rapping  for  order.  He  did  not  look  at  Cowper- 

593 


THE    FINANCIER 

wood — it  would  not  be  courteous — but  at  the  jury,  who 
gazed  at  him  in  return.  At  the  words  of  the  clerk,  "  Gen 
tlemen  of  the  jury,  have  you  agreed  upon  a  verdict?"  Mr. 
Moultrie  spoke  up,  "We  have." 

"Do  you  find  the  defendant  guilty  or  not  guilty?" 
"We  find  the  defendant  guilty  as  charged  in  the  in 
dictment." 

Cowperwood  felt  an  odd,  unusual  thrill  pass  over  him. 
What  a  strange  position  for  him  to  be  in — he,  Frank 
Cowperwood!  All  these  years  he  had  been  plunging  so 
briskly,  so  energetically  ahead  toward  wealth  and,  he 
would  have  added,  fame;  but  he  could  not  be  sure  that 
he  cared  so  much  for  fame.  Anyhow,  fame  went  with 
great  wealth  greatly  achieved — and  now  suddenly  he  was 
stopped.  It  was  truly  as  though  all  of  a  sudden  a  strong 
wall  had  come  between  him  and  his  future,  and — unpleasant 
thought! — it  was  a  prison-wall!  Here  it  was  right  here 
before  him  now,  and  there  were  the  twelve  men  who  were 
making  it  possible  for  it  to  be  there — who  were  putting 
it  there  as  a  matter  of  fact.  How  had  they  come  to  do 
this  ?  Because  he  had  taken  a  check  for  sixty  thousand 
dollars  which  did  not  belong  to  him?  But  in  reality  it 
did.  Good  Lord,  what  was  sixty  thousand  dollars  in  the 
sum  total  of  all  the  money  that  had  passed  back  and 
forth  between  him  and  George  W.  Stener?  Nothing, 
nothing!  A  mere  bagatelle  in  its  way;  and  yet  here  it 
had  risen  up,  this  miserable,  insignificant  check,  and  be 
come  a  mountain  of  opposition,  a  stone  wall,  a  prison- wall 
barring  his  further  progress.  It  was  astonishing.  He 
looked  around  him  at  the  court-room.  How  large  and 
bare  and  cold  it  was!  Still  he  was  Frank  A.  Cowper 
wood.  Why  should  he  let  such  queer  thoughts  disturb 
him?  His  fight  for  freedom  and  privilege  and  restitu 
tion  was  not  over  yet.  Good  heavens!  It  had  only 
begun.  In  five  days  he  would  be  out  again  on  bail. 
Steger  would  take  an  appeal.  He  would  be  out,  and 
he  would  have  two  long  months  in  which  to  make  an 

594 


THE    FINANCIER 

additional  fight.  He  was  not  down  yet.  He  would  win 
his  liberty.  This  jury  was  all  wrong.  A  higher  court 
would  say  so.  It  would  reverse  their  verdict,  and  he 
knew  it.  He  turned  to  Steger,  where  the  latter  was  hav 
ing  the  clerk  poll  the  jury,  in  the  hope  that  some  one 
juror  had  been  over-persuaded,  made  to  vote  against 
his  will. 

"Is  that  your  verdict?"  he  heard  the  clerk  ask  of 
Philip  Moult rie,  juror  No.  i. 

"It  is,"  replied  that  worthy,  solemnly. 

"Is  that  your  verdict?"  The  clerk  was  pointing  to 
Simon  Glassberg. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Is  that  your  verdict?"  He  pointed  to  Fletcher 
Norton. 

"Yes." 

So  it  went  through  the  whole  jury.  All  the  men  an 
swered  firmly  and  clearly,  though  Steger  thought  it 
might  barely  be  possible  that  one  would  have  changed 
his  mind.  The  judge  thanked  them  and  told  them  that 
in  view  of  their  long  services  this  night,  they  were  dis 
missed  for  the  term.  The  only  thing  remaining  to  be 
done  now  was  for  Steger  to  persuade  Judge  Payderson 
to  grant  a  stay  of  sentence  pending  the  hearing  of  a 
motion  by  the  State  Supreme  Court  for  a  new  trial. 

Judge  Payderson  looked  at  Cowperwood  very  curiously 
as  Steger  asked  that  the  pending  sentence  be  stayed 
until  a  motion  for  a  new  trial  could  be  entertained  by 
the  Supreme  Court,  and  owing  to  the  importance  of  the 
case  and  the  feeling  he  had  that  the  Supreme  Court 
might  very  readily  grant  a  certificate  of  reasonable  doubt 
in  this  case,  he  agreed.  There  was  nothing  left,  there 
fore,  but  for  Cowperwood  to  return  at  this  late  hour 
with  the  deputy  sheriff  to  the  county  jail,  where  he  must 
now  remain  for  five  days  at  the  least — possibly  longer. 

The   jail   in    question,    which   was   known    locally   as 

595 


THE   FINANCIER 

Moyamensing  Prison,  was  located  at  Tenth  and  Reed 
Streetst,  and  from  an  architectural  and  artistic  point  of 
view  was  not  so  displeasing  to  the  eye.  It  consisted  of  a 
central  portion — prison,  residence  for  the  sheriff  or  what 
you  will — three  stories  high,  with  a  battlemented  cornice 
and  a  round  battlemented  tower  about  one-third  as  high 
as  the  central  portion  itself,  and  two  wings,  each  two 
stories  high,  with  battlemented  turrets  at  either  end, 
giving  it  a  highly  castellated  and  consequently,  from 
the  American  point  of  view,  a  very  prison-like  appear 
ance.  The  fagade  of  the  prison,  which  was  not  more  than 
thirty-five  feet  high  for  the  central  portion,  nor  more 
than  twenty-five  feet  for  the  wings,  was  set  back  at  least 
a  hundred  feet  from  the  street,  and  was  continued  at 
either  end,  from  the  wings  to  the  end  of  the  street  block, 
by  a  stone  wall  all  of  twenty  feet  high.  The  struc 
ture  was  not  severely  prison-like,  for  the  central  portion 
was  pierced  by  rather  large,  unbarred  apertures  hung 
on  the  two  upper  stories  with  curtains,  and  giving  the 
whole  front  a  rather  pleasant  and  residential  air.  The 
wing  to  the  right,  as  one  stood  looking  in  from  the  street, 
was  the  section  known  as  the  county  jail  proper,  and 
was  devoted  to  the  care  of  prisoners  serving  out  short- 
term  sentences  on  some  judicial  order.  The  wing  to  the 
left  was  devoted  exclusively  to  the  care  and  control  of 
untried  prisoners.  The  whole  building  was  built  of  a 
smooth,  light-colored  stone,  which  on  a  snowy  night  like 
this,  with  the  few  lamps  that  were  used  in  it  glowing 
feebly  in  the  dark,  gave  it  an  eery,  fantastic,  almost 
supernatural  appearance.  Artistically,  it  was  not  dis 
pleasing  in  the  least. 

It  was  a  rough  and  blowy  night  when  Cowperwood 
started  for  this  institution  under  duress.  The  wind  had 
sprung  up,  driving  the  snow  before  it  in  curious,  interest 
ing  whirls.  Eddie  Zanders,  the  sheriff's  deputy  on  guard 
at  the  court  of  Quarter  Sessions,  who  accompanied 
Cowperwood  and  his  father  and  Steger  to  the  jail,  was  a 

596 


THE    FINANCIER 

little  man,  dark,  with  a  short,  stubby  mustache,  and  a 
shrewd  though  not  highly  intelligent  eye,  who  was  anxious 
first  to  uphold  his  dignity  as  a  deputy  sheriff,  which  was  a 
very  important  position  in  his  estimation,  and  next  to 
turn  an  honest  penny  if  he  could.  He  knew  little  save 
the  details  of  his  small  world,  which  consisted  of  accom 
panying  prisoners  to  and  from  the  courts  and  the  jails, 
and  seeing  that  they  did  not  get  away.  He  was  not  un 
friendly  to  a  particular  type  of  prisoner — the  well-to-do 
or  moderately  prosperous — for  he  had  long  since  learned 
that  it  paid  to  be  so.  To-night  he  offered  a  few  sociable 
suggestions — viz.,  that  it  was  rather  rough,  that  the  jail 
was  not  so  far  but  that  they  could  walk,  and  that  Sheriff 
Jaspers  would,  in  all  likelihood,  be  around  or  could  be 
aroused.  Cowperwood  scarcely  heard.  He  was  thinking 
of  his  mother  and  his  wife  and  of  Aileen. 

When  the  jail  was  reached  Cowperwood  was  led  to  the 
door  of  the  central  portion,  as  it  was  here  that  the  sheriff, 
Adlai  Jaspers,  had  his  private  office.  Jaspers  had  recently 
been  elected  to  'office,  and  was  inclined  to  conform  to  all 
the  outer  appearances,  in  so  far  as  the  proper  conduct  of 
his  office  was  concerned,  without  in  reality  inwardly  con 
forming.  Thus  it  was  generally  known  among  the  poli 
ticians  that  one  way  he  had  of  fattening  his  rather  lean 
salary  was  to  rent  private  rooms  and  grant  special  privi 
leges  to  prisoners  who  had  the  money  to  pay  for  the  same. 
Other  sheriffs  had  done  it  before  him.  In  fact,  when 
Jaspers  was  inducted  into  office  several  prisoners  were 
already  enjoying  these  privileges,  and  it  was  not  a  part  of 
his  scheme  of  things  to  disturb  them.  The  rooms  that  he 
let  to  the  "right  parties,"  as  he  invariably  put  it,  were  in 
the  central  portion  of  the  jail,  where  were  his  own  private 
living  quarters.  They  were  unbarred,  and  not  at  all  cell- 
like.  There  was  no  particular  danger  of  escape,  for  a 
guard  stood  always  at  his  private  door  instructed  "to 
keep  an  eye"  on  the  general  movements  of  all  the  inmates. 
A  prisoner  so  accommodated  was  in  many  respects  quite 

597 


THE    FINANCIER 

a  free  person.  His  meals  were  served  to  him  in  his  room, 
if  he  wished.  He  could  read  or  play  cards,  or  receive 
guests;  and  if  he  had  any  favorite  musical  instrument, 
that  was  not  denied  him.  There  was  just  one  rule  that 
had  to  be  complied  with.  If  he  were  a  public  character, 
and  any  newspaper  men  called,  he  had  to  be  brought 
down-stairs  into  the  private  interviewing  room  in  order 
that  they  might  not  know  that  he  was  not  confined  in  a 
cell  like  any  other  prisoner.  Nearly  all  of  these  facts  had 
been  noted  and  brought  to  Cowperwood's  attention  be 
forehand  by  Steger;  but  for  all  that,  when  the  jail  was 
reached  and  the  central  door  opened,  Cowperwood  crossed 
the  threshold  with  a  peculiar  sensation  of  strangeness — 
in  a  way,  of  defeat.  They  knocked,  and  were  opened  to 
by  a  sleepy  turnkey,  and  then  Cowperwood  went  into  a 
little  office  to  the  left  of  the  entrance,  where  were  only  a 
desk  and  a  chair,  dimly  lighted  by  a  low-burning  gas-jet. 
Sheriff  Jaspers,  rotund  and  ruddy,  came  down,  not  at  all 
cantankerous  for  being  disturbed  in  this  manner,  greeting 
them  in  quite  a  friendly  way.  Zanders  was  dismissed, 
and  went  briskly  about  his  affairs. 

"A  bad  night,  isn't  it  ?"  observed  Jaspers,  turning  up  the 
gas  and  preparing  to  go  through  the  routine  of  registering 
his  prisoner.  Steger  came  over  and  held  a  short,  private 
conversation  with  him  in  his  corner,  over  his  desk.  The 
sheriff's  face  shortly  lit  up. 

"Oh,  certainly,  certainly!  That's  all  right,  Mr.  Steger, 
to  be  sure!  Why,  certainly!" 

Cowperwood,  eying  the  fat  sheriff  from  his  position 
on  the  stone  floor,  understood  what  it  was  all  about.  He 
had  regained  completely  his  not  cynical — he  really  never 
had  been  that — but  critical  attitude,  his  cool,  intellectual 
poise.  So  this  was  the  jail,  and  this  was  the  fat  mediocrity 
of  a  sheriff  who  was  to  take  care  of  him.  Very  good.  He 
would  make  the  best  of  it.  He  wondered  whether  he  was 
to  be  searched — prisoners  usually  were — but  he  soon  found 
out  not. 

598 


THE    FINANCIER 

"That's  all  right,  Mr.  Cowperwood,"  said  Mr.  Jaspers, 
getting  up.  "I  guess  I  can  make  you  comfortable,  after 
a  fashion.  We're  not  running  a  hotel  here,  as  you  know" 
—he  chuckled  to  himself — "but  I  guess  I  can  make  you 
comfortable.  John,"  he  called  to  a  sleepy  factotum, 
who  appeared  from  another  room,  rubbing  his  eyes,  "is 
the  key  to  Number  Six  down  here?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Let  me  have  it." 

John  disappeared  and  returned,  while  Steger  explained 
to  Cowperwood  that  anything  he  wanted  in  the  way  of 
clothing,  etc.,  could  be  brought.  Steger  himself  would 
stop  round  next  morning  and  confer  with  him,  as  would 
any  of  the  members  of  Cowperwood's  family  whom  he 
wished  to  see.  Cowperwood  immediately  explained  to  his 
father  the  less  of  this  the  better.  His  father  could  stop 
by  that  night  and  tell  his  wife  the  result  of  the  trial. 
Joseph  or  Edward  might  come  in  the  morning  and  bring 
a  grip  full  of  underwear,  etc. ;  but  as  for  the  others,  let 
them  wait  until  he  got  out  or  had  to  remain  permanently. 
Then  would  be  time  enough.  He  did  think  of  writing 
Aileen,  cautioning  her  to  do  nothing;  but  the  sheriff  now 
beckoned,  and  he  quietly  followed.  Accompanied  by  his 
father  and  Steger,  he  ascended  to  his  new  room. 

It  was  a  simple,  white-walled  chamber  fifteen  by  twenty 
feet  in  size,  rather  high-ceiled,  supplied  with  a  high- 
backed,  yellow  wooden  bed,  a  yellow  bureau,  a  small 
imitation-cherry  table,  three  very  ordinary  cane-seated 
chairs  with  carved  hickory-rod  backs,  cherry-stained  also, 
and  a  wash-stand  of  yellow-stained  wood  to  match  the 
bed,  containing  a  wash-basin,  a  pitcher,  a  soap-dish,  un 
covered,  and  a  small,  cheap,  pink-flowered  tooth  and  shav 
ing  brush  mug,  which  did  not  match  the  other  ware  and 
which  probably  cost  ten  cents.  The  value  of  this  room 
to  Sheriff  Jaspers  was  what  he  could  get  for  it  in  cases 
like  this — twenty-five  to  thirty-five  dollars  a  week. 
Cowperwood  would  pay  thirty-five. 

599 


THE    FINANCIER 

On  entering  his  room  Cowperwood  walked  briskly  to 
the  window,  which  gave  out  on  the  lawn  in  front,  now 
embedded  in  snow,  and  said  he  thought  this  was  all 
right.  Both  his  father  and  Steger  were  willing  and  anxious 
to  confer  with  him  for  hours,  if  he  wished;  but  there  was 
nothing  to  say.  He  did  not  wish  to  talk. 

"Let  Ed  bring  in  some  fresh  linen  in  the  morning  and 
a  couple  of  suits  of  clothes,  and  I  will  be  all  right.  George 
can  get  my  things  together."  He  was  referring  to  the 
family  servant  who  acted  as  valet  and  in  other  capacities. 
"Tell  Lillian  not  to  worry.  I'm  all  right.  I'd  rather  that 
she  would  not  come  here  so  long  as  I'm  going  to  be  out 
in  five  days.  If  I'm  not,  it  will  be  time  enough  then. 
Kiss  the  kids  for  me."  And  he  smiled  good-naturedly. 

Steger  was  glad  to  see  him  so  cheerful.  The  decent 
character  of  the  room  had  evidently  had  a  good  effect 
on  him.  After  his  unfulfilled  predictions  in  regard  to  the 
result  of  this  preliminary  trial  Steger  was  almost  afraid 
to  suggest  confidently  what  the  State  Supreme  Court 
would  or  would  not  do;  but  he  had  to  say  something. 

"I  don't  think  you  need  worry  about  what  the  outcome 
of  my  appeal  will  be.  I'll  get  a  certificate  of  reasonable 
doubt,  and  that's  as  good  as  a  stay  of  two  months,  per 
haps  longer.  I  don't  suppose  the  bail  will  be  more  than 
thirty  thousand  dollars  at  the  outside.  You'll  be  out 
again  in  five  or  six  days,  whatever  happens." 

Cowperwood  said  that  he  hoped  so,  and  suggested  that 
they  drop  matters  for  the  night.  After  a  few  fruitless  par 
leys  Steger  and  Cowperwood  senior  finally  said  good 
night,  and  then  Cowperwood  turned  to  his  own  private 
reflections.  He  was  tired,  however,  and  in  his  customary 
way  made  short  work  of  that,  throwing  off  his  clothes, 
tucking  himself  in  his  mediocre  bed,  and  going  fast  asleep. 


CHAPTER  LVII 

SAY  what  one  will  about  prison  life  in  general,  modify 
it  never  so  much  by  special  chambers,  obsequious 
turnkeys,  a  general  tendency  to  make  one  as  comfortable 
as  possible,  a  jail  is  a  jail;  and  there  is  no  getting  away 
from  that.  Cowpenvood  in  his  new  private  room,  which 
was  not  in  any  way  inferior  to  that  of  the  ordinary  board 
ing-house,  was  nevertheless  conscious  of  the  character  of 
that  section  of  this  real  prison  which  he  was  not  in.  He 
knew  that  there  were  cells  there,  probably  greasy  and 
smelly  and  vermin-infested  from  contact  with  a  long  line 
of  human  victims  who  had  either  sat  or  lain  in  them,  and 
that  they  were  inclosed  by  heavy  iron  bars,  which  would 
have  as  readily  clanked  on  him  as  on  those  who  were  now 
therein  incarcerated  if  it  had  not  been  that  he  had  the 
price  to  pay  for  something  better.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
when  he  had  come  in  down-stairs  the  first  night  he  had 
caught  a  whiff  of  that  peculiarly  stale  chemical  odor  which 
accompanies  most  prisons,  a  faint  combination  of  unwashed 
offal  pots,  soap-suds,  and  lime.  So  much  for  the  alleged 
equality  of  man,  he  thought,  which  gives  to  one  man,  even 
within  the  grim  confines  of  the  machinery  of  justice,  such 
personal  liberty  as  he  himself  was  now  enjoying,  and  denies 
to  another,  because  he  lacks  wit  or  presence  or  friends  or 
wealth,  these  more  comfortable  things  which  money  will 
buy.  Could  any  one  blame  him,  Cowperwood  thought, 
for  putting  the  emphasis  in  this  world  on  money?  Did 
the  lack  of  cash  bring  any  one  anything  save  compulsory 
subservience  and  a  lack  of  consideration  ?  No,  money  was 
very  important,  as  this  present  situation  had  proved;  and 
20  6°i 


THE    FINANCIER 

it  was  his  business  to  get  it  and  keep  it.  Only  he  must 
never  be  so  foolish  another  time  as  to  permit  himself  to 
be  caught  within  the  toils  of  the  law.  This  present  diffi 
culty  was  due  merely  to  a  lack  of  forethought.  If  he  had 
kept  his  lines  drawn  tighter,  had  held  a  reserve  n  govern 
ment  bonds  in  case  of  a  possible  panic,  he  would  not  be 
in  his  present  doubtful  state.  However,  here  he  was, 
and  it  was  necessary  to  make  the  best  of  it. 

The  morning  after  the  trial,  on  waking,  he  stirred  curi 
ously,  and  then  it  suddenly  came  to  him  that  he  was  no 
longer  in  the  free  and  comfortable  atmosphere  of  his  own 
bedroom,  but  in  a  jail-cell,  or  rather  its  very  comfortable 
substitute,  a  sheriff's  rented  bedroom.  He  got  up  and 
looked  out  the  window.  The  ground  outside  and  Passa- 
yunk  Avenue  were  white  with  snow.  Some  wagons  were 
lumbering  by  silently.  A  few  Philadelphians  were  visible 
here  and  there,  going  to  and  fro  on  morning  errands.  He 
began  to  think  at  once  what  he  must  do,  how  he  must 
act  to  carry  on  his  business,  his  efforts  to  rehabilitate  him 
self ;  and  as  he  did  so  he  dressed  and  pulled  the  bell-cord, 
which  had  been  indicated  to  him,  and  which  would  bring 
him  an  attendant  who  would  build  him  a  fire  and  later 
bring  him  something  to  eat.  His  problems  were  large 
and  significant,  and  he  meditated  on  them  while  a  shabby 
prison  attendant  in  a  blue  uniform,  conscious  of  Cowper- 
wood's  superiority  because  of  the  room  he  occupied,  laid 
wood  and  coal  in  the  grate  and  started  a  fire,  and  later 
brought  him  his  breakfast,  which  was  anything  but  prison 
fare,  though  poor  enough  at  that.  He  had  to  take 
what  the  sheriff  served  him — ham  and  eggs,  coffee,  bread 
and  butter,  and  a  little  jelly,  which  Cowperwood  ate 
solemnly  by  himself,  speculating  on  how  readily  it  might 
have  been  worse. 

He  was  compelled  to  wait  in  patience  several  hours, 
in  spite  of  the  sheriff's  assumption  of  solicitous  interest, 
before  his  brother  Edward  was  admitted  with  his  clothes. 
An  attendant,  for  a  consideration,  brought  him  the  morn- 

602 


THE    FINANCIER 

ing  papers,  and  these  he  read  wearily.  Late  in  the  after 
noon  Steger  arrived,  saying  he  had  been  busy  having 
certain  proceedings  postponed,  but  that  he  had  arranged 
with  the  sheriff  for  Cowperwood  to  be  permitted  to  see 
such  of  those  as  had  important  business  with  him. 

Between  the  visits  of  his  father,  brothers,  several  of  his 
commercial  assistants  and  his  creditors,  the  five  days 
finally  passed,  at  which  time  Steger's  appeal  for  a  certifi 
cate  of  reasonable  doubt  was  granted,  and  Cowperwood 
was  permitted  to  leave  the  jail. 

He  returned  to  his  home  a  rather  grim  and  sobered 
person.  The  thought  of  how  to  overcome  a  possible 
prison  sentence — the  effects  of  which  would  be  to  destroy 
his  commercial  interests  entirely — was  with  him  night  and 
day. 

It  was  while  Cowperwood  was  in  his  room  in  Moya- 
mensing,  meditating  on  the  vagaries  of  fortune  and  won 
dering  how  he  would  overcome  the  effect  of  this  setback, 
that  the  crisis  in  Aileen's  relations  with  her  father  oc 
curred.  Cowperwood  had  been  in  his  rented  room  four 
days,  and  was  destined  to  come  out  on  the  morrow  (for 
although  he  did  not  then  know  it,  his  appeal  for  a  certif 
icate  of  reasonable  doubt  was  to  be  granted),  when 
Aileen  concluded  that  it  was  best  for  her  to  leave  home. 
Cowperwood  had  written  her  under  no  circumstances  to 
try  to  see  him,  as  he  would  be  out  by  the  tenth,  and  if 
not  then,  there  would  be  plenty  of  time  after  that.  He 
did  not  want  to  compromise  her  any  more  than  he  had 
already  done,  and  he  was  afraid  on  this  account  to  have 
her  appear  at  the  jail.  She  wanted  greatly  to  see  him; 
but  she  fancied,  because  of  her  emotional  tension  at  this 
time,  that  she  was  under  surveillance  by  the  detectives 
employed  by  her  father.  This  was  no  better  grounded  in 
reason  than  in  the  fact  that  one  morning  when  she  was 
coming  out  of  the  post-office,  where  Cowperwood  had 
taken  a  lock-box,  she  thought  she  saw  one  of  the  men 
who  had  assisted  in  discovering  her  in  South  Sixth  Street. 


THE    FINANCIER 

This  was  not  true,  but  it  preyed  on  her  fancy,  and,  com 
bined  with  some  derogatory  remarks  dropped  by  Owen 
and  Callum  at  the  dinner  table,  proved  almost  too  much 
for  her  fiery,  nervous  disposition.  The  imaginary  sight  of 
the  detective  brought  back  all  the  shame  of  the  clumsy 
method  Butler  had  employed  to  track  her  down;  and  the 
curt  observation  of  Owen — who  was  entirely  unconscious 
of  her  relationship  to  Cowperwood — that  so  far  as  he  could 
see  the  financier  was  getting  about  what  he  deserved, 
made  her  feel  that  her  father  had  secretly  confided  in  her 
brother,  and  that  what  the  latter  said  was  intended  as  a 
back-handed  slap  at  her.  This  at  once  humiliated  and 
infuriated  her ;  but  she  made  no  move  until  she  read  on  the 
morning  of  the  tenth  that  Cowperwood's  plea  for  a  cer 
tificate  of  reasonable  doubt  had  been  granted,  and  that 
he  would  once  more,  for  the  time  being  at  least,  be  a  free 
man.  This  gave  her  courage  to  do  what  she  had  long 
wanted  to  do,  and  that  was  to  teach  her  father  that  she 
could  get  along  without  him  and  that  he  could  not  make 
her  do  anything  that  she  did  not  want  to  do.  She  still 
had  the  two  hundred  dollars  Cowperwood  had  given  her 
at  the  time  she  thought  she  would  leave  before,  and  some 
additional  cash  of  her  own — perhaps  three  hundred  and 
fifty  dollars  all  told.  This  she  thought  would  be  sufficient 
to  see  her  to  the  end  of  her  adventure,  or  at  least  until 
such  time  as  she  could  make  some  other  arrangement  for 
her  personal  well-being.  From  what  she  knew  of  the 
feeling  of  her  family  for  her,  she  felt  that  the  agony 
would  all  be  on  their  side,  not  hers.  Perhaps  when  her 
father  saw  how  determined  she  was  he  would  decide  to 
let  her  alone  and  make  peace  with  her.  She  was  de 
termined  to  try  it,  anyhow;  and  on  the  night  when  she 
knew  that  Cowperwood  was  free  she  stopped  in  at  the 
Calligans'  to  say  that  she  would  be  coming  in  a  day  or 
two,  and  to  caution  them  to  tell  no  one.  To  Mrs.  Calligan 
she  confided  that  because  of  the  opposition  of  her  parents 
to  something  she  wanted  to  do  she  was  very  unhappy. 

604 


THE    FINANCIER 

Mrs.  Calligan  looked  upon  it  as  a  bit  of  family  temper 
which  would  soon  blow  over,  and  welcomed  Aileen,  be 
cause  she  liked  her  and  because  a  favor  extended  to  her 
now  might  tend  to  benefit  herself  in  the  future. 

Aileen  also  stopped  to  send  word  to  Cowperwood  where 
she  was  going,  to  make  an  appointment,  and  to  welcome 
him  to  freedom.  In  a  way  he  was  rather  gratified  by  the 
message,  for  he  felt  that  his  present  plight,  bitter  as  it 
was,  was  largely  due  to  Butler's  opposition,  and  he  had 
no  compunction  now  in  striking  him  through  his  daughter. 
His  former  feeling  as  to  the  wisdom  of  not  enraging 
Butler  further  had  proved  rather  futile,  he  thought,  and 
since  the  old  man  could  not  be  placated  it  might  be  just 
as  well  to  have  Aileen  demonstrate  to  him  that  she  was 
not  without  resources  of  her  own  and  could  live  without 
him.  She  might  force  him  to  change  his  attitude  toward 
her,  and  possibly  even  to  modify  some  of  his  political 
machinations  against  him,  Cowperwood.  Any  port  in  a 
storm — and  besides  he  had  now  really  nothing  to  lose, 
or  if  he  had,  Butler's  attitude  was  more  likely  to  be  favor 
ably  affected  than  not,  particularly  if  it  was  demon 
strated  by  Aileen's  flight  that  her  affection  and  attitude 
were  largely  of  her  own  free  will  and  volition.  It  was  a 
knotty  question — but  instinct  told  him  that  her  move 
was  likely  to  prove  more  favorable  than  otherwise,  so  he 
did  nothing  to  prevent  it. 


CHAPTER   LVIII 

PHE  night  following  her  letter  to  Cowperwood  Aileen 
1  decided  to  act.  She  took  her  jewels,  some  under 
wear,  a  couple  of  dresses  which  she  thought  would  be 
serviceable,  and  a  few  other  things;  packed  them  in  the 
most  capacious  portmanteau  she  had;  and  prepared  to 
leave.  Shoes  and  stockings  came  into  consideration,  and, 
despite  her  efforts,  she  found  that  she  could  not  get 
in  all  that  she  wished.  Her  nicest  hat,  which  she  was 
determined  to  take,  had  to  be  carried  outside.  She  made 
a  separate  bundle  of  it,  which  was  not  pleasant  to  con 
template.  Still  she  decided  to  take  it.  It  was  dark. 
She  rummaged  in  a  little  drawer  where  she  kept  her 
money  and  jewels,  and  found  the  three  hundred  and  fifty 
dollars  all  told  which  was  hers,  and  put  it  in  her  purse. 
It  wasn't  much,  as  Aileen  could  herself  see,  but  Cowper 
wood  would  help  her.  If  he  did  not  arrange  to  take  care 
of  her,  and  her  father  would  not  relent,  she  would  have 
to  get  something  to  do.  Little  she  knew  of  the  steely 
face  the  world  presents  to  those  who  have  not  been 
practically  trained  and  are  not  economically  efficient. 
She  did  not  understand  the  bitter  reaches  of  life  at  all. 
She  waited,  humming  for  effect,  until  she  heard  her 
father  go  down-stairs  to  dinner,  then  leaned  over  the 
upper  balustrade  to  make  sure  that  Owen,  Callum, 
Norah,  and  her  mother  were  at  the  table,  and  that  Katy, 
the  housemaid,  was  not  anywhere  in  sight.  Then  she 
slipped  into  her  father's  den,  and,  taking  a  note  from 
her  bosom,  laid  it  on  his  desk,  and  went  out.  It  was 
addressed  to  "Father,"  and  read: 

606 


THE    FINANCIER 

DEAR  FATHER, — I  just  cannot  do  what  you  want  me  to.  I  have 
made  up  my  mind  that  I  love  Mr.  Cowperwood  too  much,  so  I 
am  going  away.  Don't  look  for  me  with  him.  You  won't  find  me 
where  you  think.  I  am  not  going  to  him;  I  will  not  be  there.  I 
am  going  to  try  to  get  along  by  myself  for  a  while,  until  he  wants 
me  and  can  marry  me.  I'm  terribly  sorry;  but  I  just  can't  do 
what  you  want.  I  can't  ever  forgive  you  for  the  way  you  acted 
to  me.  Tell  mama  and  Norah  and  the  boys  good-by  for  me. 

AlLEEN. 

She  laid  it  under  the  light  of  the  green  table-lamp, 
which  was  turned  low,  and,  to  insure  its  discovery,  picked 
up  Butler's  heavy-rimmed  spectacles  which  he  employed 
always  when  reading,  and  laid  them  on  it.  During  the 
last  two  hours,  for  the  first  time  in  all  this  situation, 
separate  waves  of  feeling  had  swept  over  her.  As  she 
was  gathering  up  her  clothing,  as  she  wrote  the  note,  and 
later  when  she  was  leaning  over  the  balustrade  listening 
to  detect  the  several  voices  of  the  family,  she  felt  very 
strange,  somewhat  like  a  thief — a  new  sensation  for  her; 
and  as  she  laid  the  letter  on  her  father's  desk  she  felt  a 
momentary  sense  of  ingratitude  coupled  with  pain.  Per 
haps  she  was  doing  wrong.  Her  father  had  been  very 
good  to  her.  Her  mother  would  feel  so  very  bad.  Norah 
would  be  sorry,  and  Callum  and  Owen.  Still,  they  did 
not  understand  her  any  more.  She  had  outgrown  their 
world.  Cowperwood's  was  so  much  bigger.  Her  loyalty 
was  due  to  him  in  his  present  troubles.  She  was  re 
sentful  of  her  father's  attitude  toward  Cowperwood  and 
toward  her  love  for  him.  He  might  have  seen  what  the 
point  was;  but  no,  he  was  too  old,  too  hide-bound  in 
religion  and  conventional  ideas — he  never  would.  He 
might  never  let  her  come  back.  Very  well,  she  would 
stay — she  would  get  along  somehow.  She  would  teach 
him.  She  might  get  a  place  as  a  school-teacher,  and 
live  with  the  Calligans  a  long  while,  if  necessary,  or  teach 
music.  She  stole  down-stairs  and  out  into  the  vestibule, 
opening  the  outer  door  and  looking  out  into  the  street. 
The  lamps  were  already  flaring  in  the  dark,  and  a  cool 

607 


THE    FINANCIER 

wind  was  blowing.  Her  portmanteau  was  quite  heavy, 
but  she  was  very  strong.  She  walked  briskly  to  the  cor 
ner,  which  was  some  fifty  feet  away,  and  turned  south, 
walking  rather  nervously  and  irritably,  for  this  was  a 
very  new  experience  for  her.  It  was  all  so  undignified — 
so  anything  but  what  she  was  used  to  doing.  She  was 
not  so  vastly  distressed  about  her  family  now  that  she 
was  out.  She  was  thinking  about  finding  a  boy,  and  of 
getting  to  Mamie's  as  quickly  as  possible.  She  put  her 
bag  down  on  a  street-corner  finally  to  rest  herself,  and 
waited.  A  boy  whistling  in  the  distance  attracted  her  at 
tention.  As  the  lad  drew  nearer — an  idle-mannered  urchin 
coming  home  from  work  of  some  form  or  other — she  called 
to  him:  "Boy!  Boy!  Oh,  boy!" 

He  came  over,  looking  at  her  curiously. 

"Do  you  want  to  earn  some  money?" 

"Yes,  ma'm,"  he  replied,  politely,  adjusting  a  frowsy 
cap  over  one  ear. 

"Carry  this  bag  for  me,"  Aileen  said;  and  he  picked  it 
up  and  marched  off,  finally  getting  it  up  on  one  of  his 
shoulders  for  comfort's  sake.  In  due  time  Aileen  arrived 
at  the  Calligans',  and  amid  much  astonishment  and  ex 
citement  was  installed  in  the  bosom  of  her  new  home. 
She  took  her  situation  with  much  nonchalance,  once  she 
was  properly  located,  distributing  her  toilet  articles  and 
those  of  personal  wear  with  quiet  care.  The  fact  that 
she  was  not  any  longer  to  have  the  services  of  Kathleen, 
the  maid  who  had  served  her,  her  mother,  and  Norah 
jointly,  was  odd,  though  not  trying.  She  scarcely  felt 
that  she  had  parted  from  these  luxuries  permanently, 
and  so  made  herself  comfortable.  She  talked  to  Mamie 
and  her  mother,  who  were  delighted  with  her  fine 
looks,  her  artistic  clothing,  her  self-conscious  manner, 
and  natural  hauteur.  They  were  adoring  slaveys  to  her, 
and  so  she  was  not  entirely  out  of  the  atmosphere  which 
she  craved  and  to  which  she  was  used. 

Meanwhile  in  the  Butler  home  a  peculiar  scene  was 

608 


THE    FINANCIER 

being  enacted.  Butler,  meditating  constantly  on  how 
soon  he  should  speak  to  Aileen  again,  if  at  all,  and  won 
dering  just  what  particular  move  he  could  make  in  case 
her  attitude  should  not  have,  been  changed  by  the  result 
of  Cowperwood's  trial  in  the  way  that  he  had  hoped,  had 
been  going  about  in  a  mute  world  of  his  own.  Never  in 
his  life  had  he  been  confronted  by  such  a  problem  as  this. 

If  Cowperwood's  certificate  of  reasonable  doubt  were 
ultimately  denied  by  the  Supreme  Court  and  he  were  sent 
to  the  penitentiary,  which  might  easily  happen  within 
two  months,  Aileen  would  perforce  be  permanently  cured. 
She  must  see  then  that  she  could  not  stay  in  love  with  a 
convict.  But  supposing  in  the  mean  time  she  and  Cowper- 
wood  should  run  away  together  ?  He  did  not  really  believe 
that  Cowperwood  would  do  this;  but  still  the  thought, 
once  it  occurred,  was  a  horror  to  him.  Scarcely  any  action 
on  his  part  to  prevent  such  a  thing  could  be  too  drastic. 

It  was  in  this  mood  that  he  had  come  to  the  table  to 
night.  He  was  actually  feeling  badly  physically,  to  say 
nothing  of  how  he  felt  mentally.  His  appetite  was  gone. 
His  eyes  had  sunken  rings  under  them.  He  had  suffered 
politically  and  financially  at  times  when  reverses  had 
come  upon  him ;  but  what  had  they  been  to  this  ? 

He  noticed  that  Aileen  was  not  at  table.  He  thought 
nothing  of  it.  She  did  not  always  precede  him.  Mrs. 
Butler  was  sitting  in  rotund  complacency  at  the  foot  of 
the  table,  her  gray  hair  combed  straight  back  from  her 
round,  shiny  forehead.  She  had  on  a  medium-dark-gray 
silk  dress  finished  with  white-and-gray-striped  trimmings, 
which  also  had  a  touch  of  red  and  green  in  them — dots. 
It  suited  her  florid  temperament  admirably.  Aileen  had 
dictated  her  mother's  choice,  and  had  seen  that  it  had 
been  made  properly.  Norah  was  refreshingly  youthful  in 
a  pale-green  house-dress,  with  red-velvet  cuffs  and  collar. 
She  looked  young,  slender,  gay.  Her  eyes,  complexion, 
and  hair  were  fresh  and  healthy.  She  was  trifling  with  a 
string  of  coral  beads  which  her  mother  had  just  given  her. 

609 


THE    FINANCIER 

Butler  walked  heavily  in  and  took  his  seat. 

"It's  gettin'  colder,  I'm  thinkin',"  said  Butler,  by  way 
of  conversation,  and  eying  Aileen's  empty  chair.  She 
would  come  soon  now — his  heavy  problem.  He  had  been 
very  tactful  these  last  two  months— avoiding  any  refer 
ence  in  so  far  as  he  could  help  to  Cowperwood  in  Aileen's 
presence,  but  he  had  not  always  been  successful.  Aileen 
was  called,  and  the  maid  said  she  answered. 

"It's  colder,"  remarked  Owen,  "much  colder.  We'll 
soon  see  real  winter  now." 

Old  John  began  to  offer  the  various  dishes  in  order; 
but  when  all  had  been  served  Aileen  had  not  yet 
come. 

"See  where  Aileen  is,  John,"  observed  Mrs.  Butler, 
interestedly.  "The  meal  will  be  gettin'  cold." 

Old  John  sent  the  maid  again.  This  time  Aileen  was 
not  in  her  room. 

"She's  not  in  her  room,"  he  said,  returning  after  a  time. 
"Annie  says  she  can't  find  her." 

"Sure  she  must  be  somewhere,"  commented  Mrs.  But 
ler,  only  slightly  perplexed.  "She'll  be  comin',  though, 
never  mind,  if  she  wants  to.  She  knows  it's  meal-time." 

Old  Butler  decided  that  Aileen's  mind  was  telling 
against  her  appetite.  It  was  not  strange.  The  conversa 
tion  drifted  from  a  new  water-works  that  was  being 
planned  to  the  new  city  hall,  then  nearing  completion; 
Cowperwood's  financial  and  social  troubles,  and  the  state 
of  the  stock  market  generally;  a  new  gold-mine  in  Arizona ; 
the  departure  of  Mrs.  Mollenhauer  the  following  Tuesday 
for  Europe,  with  appropriate  comments  by  Norah  and 
Callum;  and  a  Christmas  ball  that  was  going  to  be 
given  for  charity. 

"Aileen  '11  be  wantin'  to  go  to  that,"  commented  Mrs. 
Butler. 

"I'm  going,  you  bet,"  put  in  Norah. 

"Who's  going  to  take  you?"  asked  Callurn. 

"That's  my  affair,  mister,"  she  replied,  smartly. 

610 


THE    FINANCIER 

The  meal  was  over,  and  Mrs.  Butler  strolled  up  to 
Aileen's  room  to  see  what  had  become  of  her.  Butler 
entered  his  den,  wishing  so  much  that  he  could  take  his 
wife  into  his  confidence  concerning  all  that  was  worrying 
him.  On  his  desk,  as  he  sat  down  and  turned  up  the 
light,  he  saw  the  note.  He  recognized  Aileen's  hand 
writing  at  once.  What  could  she  mean  by  writing  him? 
A  sense  of  the  untoward  came  to  him,  and  he  tore  it  open 
slowly,  and,  putting  on  his  glasses,  contemplated  it 
solemnly. 

The  old  man  stared  at  each  word  as  if  it  had  been 
written  in  fire.  So  Aileen  was  gone.  She  said  she  had  not 
gone  with  Cowperwood.  It  was  possible,  just  the  same, 
that  he  had  run  away  from  Philadelphia  and  taken 
Aileen  with  him.  This  was  the  last  straw.  This  ended  it. 
Aileen  lured  away  from  home — to  where — to  what  ?  Butler 
could  scarcely  believe,  though,  that  Cowperwood  had 
tempted  her  to  do  this.  He  had  too  much  at  stake;  it 
would  involve  his  own  and  Butler's  families.  The  papers 
would  be  certain  to  get  it  quickly.  But  as  to  Aileen,  the 
girl  was  crazy.  She  was  out  of  her  mind.  Still,  she  was 
gone.  He  got  up,  crumpling  the  paper  in  his  hand,  and 
turned  about  at  a  noise.  His  wife  was  coming  in.  He 
pulled  himself  together  and  shoved  the  letter  in  his  pocket. 

"Aileen's  not  in  her  room,"  she  said,  curiously.  "She 
didn't  say  anything  to  you  about  going  out,  did  she?" 

"No,"  he  replied,  truthfully,  wondering  how  soon  he 
should  have  to  tell  his  wife. 

"That's  odd,"  observed  Mrs.  Butler,  doubtfully.  "She 
must  have  gone  out  after  somethin'.  It's  a  wonder  she 
wouldn't  tell  somebody." 

Butler  gave  no  sign.  He  dared  not.  "She'll  be  back," 
he  said,  more  in  order  to  gain  time  than  anything  else. 
"She's  thought  of  some  one  she  wanted  to  see  and  gone." 
He  was  sorry  to  have  to  pretend.  Mrs.  Butler  went  out, 
and  he  closed  the  door.  Then  he  took  out  the  letter  and 
read  it  again.  The  girl  was  crazy.  She  was  doing  an 

'  611 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

absolutely  wild,  inhuman,  senseless  thing.  Where  could 
she  go,  except  to  Cowperwood?  She  was  on  the  verge 
of  a  public  scandal,  and  this  would  produce  it.  There 
was  just  one  thing  to  do  as  far  as  he  could  see.  Cowper 
wood,  if  he  were  still  in  Philadelphia,  would  know.  He 
had  her  in  complete  control.  He  would  go  to  him — 
threaten,  cajole,  actually  destroy  him,  if  necessary. 
Aileen  must  come  back.  She  need  not  go  to  Europe, 
perhaps,  but  she  must  come  back  and  behave  herself  at 
least  until  Cowperwood  could  legitimately  marry  her. 
That  was  all  he  could  expect  now.  She  would  have  to 
wait,  and  some  day  perhaps  he  could  bring  himself  to 
accept  her  wretched  proposition.  Horrible  thought!  It 
would  kill  her  mother,  disgrace  her  sister.  He  got  up, 
took  down  his  hat,  put  on  his  overcoat,  and  started  out. 


CHAPTER   LIX 

AT  nine  o'clock  Butler,  having  decided  that  Cowper- 
wood  must  know  and  must  be  made,  if  he  were  still 
in  Philadelphia,  to  help  straighten  out  this  terrific  tangle 
in  regard  to  Aileen,  rang  at  his  door,  and  was  shown  into 
the  reception-room.  Cowperwood  at  the  time  was  in 
his  private  den  looking  over  some  papers.  During  the 
time  that  he  had  been  in  jail  the  two  Cowperwood 
households  had  been  in  a  state  of  utter  collapse.  With 
Henry,  the  father,  out  of  his  position,  and  the  two  brothers 
in  a  way  publicly  discredited  by  Cowperwood 's  fall,  there 
was  nothing  to  do  for  any  of  them  save  to  wait  and  see 
what  happened  in  connection  with  him.  His  wife  had 
now  not  the  courage  to  think  of  anything  save  the  pos 
sibility  of  his  restoration  to  his  former  financial  state. 
His  attitude  toward  Aileen  was  now  a  secondary  considera 
tion.  The  real  animus  of  Butler  had  never  been  revealed 
to  any  of  them,  and  they  still  thought  that  his  seeming 
indifference  to  Cowperwood  in  this  crisis  was  due  to  his 
political  affiliations.  In  order  to  save  the  good  name  of 
the  party  he  had  had  to  join  with  the  other  leaders  in 
ignoring  him — so  Cowperwood's  relatives  thought. 

When  the  name  of  Butler  was  announced  to  him  Frank 
immediately  arose  and  went  down-stairs.  It  was  char 
acteristic  of  the  man  that  the  announcement  of  Butler's 
presence  created  no  stir  in  him  whatever.  He  knew 
what  it  was  all  about.  So  Butler  had  come.  That  meant, 
of  course,  that  Aileen  had  gone.  Now  for  a  battle,  not 
of  words,  but  of  weights  of  personalities. 

"Good  evening,  Mr.  Butler,"  said  Cowperwood,  cheer- 
613 


THE    FI  NANCIER 

fully,  when  he  saw  him,  extending  his  hand.  He  deemed 
it  best  to  assume  an  air  of  friendly  civility,  even  though 
Butler  would  not  want  it  to  prevail.  "What  can  I  do 
for  you?" 

"Ye  can  take  that  away  from  in  front  of  me,  for  one 
thing,"  said  Butler,  grimly  referring  to  his  hand.  "I 
have  no  need  of  it.  It's  my  daughter  I've  come  to  talk 
to  ye  about,  and  I  want  plain  answers.  Where  is 
she?" 

"You  mean  Aileen?"  said  Cowperwood,  looking  at 
him  with  steady,  curious,  unrevealing  eyes,  and  merely 
interpolating  this  to  obtain  a  moment  for  reflection. 
"What  can  I  tell  you  about  her?" 

"Ye  can  tell  me  where  she  is,  that  I  know.  And  ye 
can  make  her  come  back  to  her  home,  where  she  belongs. 
It  was  bad  fortune  that  ever  brought  ye  across  my  door 
step;  but  I'll  not  bandy  words  with  ye  here.  Ye'll 
tell  me  where  my  daughter  is,  and  ye'll  leave  her  alone 
from  now,  or  I'll — "  The  old  man's  fists  closed  like  a 
vise,  and  his  chest  heaved  with  suppressed  rage.  "Ye'll 
not  be  drivin'  me  too  far,  man,  if  ye're  wise,"  he  added, 
after  a  time,  recovering  his  equanimity  in  part.  "  I  want 
no  thruck  with  ye.  I  want  my  daughter." 

"Listen,  Mr.  Butler,"  said  Cowperwood,  quite  calmly, 
relishing  the  situation  for  the  sheer  sense  of  superiority 
it  gave  him.  Butler  was  strong,  old,  tempestuous.  He 
had  done  much  to  injure  him,  Cowperwood,  but  if  he  had 
triumphed  in  every  other  matter,  he  had  not  done  so  in 
connection  with  this  one  thing — the  most  important  to 
him,  his  daughter.  Cowperwood  reflected  by  contrast 
that  he  was  young  and  calm,  really  the  victor  in  this. 
Much  to  his  astonishment,  there  was  more  in  Aileen's 
move  than  he  had  realized,  and  he  might  use  it  to 
improve  his  own  position  somewhat.  Obviously,  But 
ler  was  determined  not  to  expose  him  or  her  if  he  could 
help  it.  It  was  a  great  advantage.  "I  want  to  be  per 
fectly  frank  with  you,  if  you  will  let  me.  I  may  know 

614 


THE    FINANCIER 

where  your  daughter  is,  and  I  may  not.  I  may  wish  to 
tell  you,  and  I  may  not.  She  may  not  wish  me  to.  But 
unless  you  wish  to  talk  with  me  in  a  civil  way  there  is  no 
need  of  our  going  on  any  further.  You  are  privileged  to 
do  what  you  like.  Won't  you  come  up-stairs  to  my 
room?  We  can  talk  more  comfortably  there." 

Butler  looked  at  his  former  protege  in  utter  astonish 
ment.  He  had  never  before  in  all  his  experience  come 
up  against  a  more  ruthless  type — suave,  bland,  forceful, 
unterrified.  This  man  had  certainly  come  to  him  as  a 
sheep,  and  had  turned  out  to  be  a  ravening  wolf.  His 
incarceration  had  not  put  him  in  the  least  awe. 

"  I'll  not  come  up  to  your  room,"  Butler  said,  "and  ye'll 
not  get  out  of  Philadelphia  with  her  if  that's  what  ye're 
plannin'.  I  can  see  to  that.  Ye  think  ye  have  the  upper 
hand  of  me,  I  see,  and  ye're  anxious  to  take  it.  Well, 
ye've  not.  It  wasn't  enough  that  ye  come  to  me  as  a 
beggar,  cravin'  the  help  of  me,  and  that  I  took  ye  in  and 
helped  ye  all  I  could — ye  had  to  steal  my  daughter  from 
me  in  the  bargain.  If  it  wasn't  for  the  girl's  mother  and 
her  sister  and  her  brothers — dacenter  men  than  ever  ye'll 
know  how  to  be — I'd  brain  ye  where  ye  stand.  Takin'  a 
young,  innocent  girl  and  makin'  an  evil  woman  out  of 
her,  and  ye  a  married  man !  It's  a  God's  blessin'  for  ye 
that  it's  me,  and  not  one  of  me  sons,  that's  here  talkin' 
to  ye,  or  ye  wouldn't  be  alive  to  say  what  ye'd  do." 

The  old  man  was  grim  but  impotent  in  his  rage. 

"I'm  sorry,  Mr.  Butler,"  replied  Cowperwood,  quietly. 
"I'm  willing  to  explain,  but  you  won't  let  me.  I'm  not 
planning  to  run  away  with  your  daughter,  nor  to  leave 
Philadelphia.  You  ought  to  know  me  well  enough  to 
know  that  I'm  not  contemplating  anything  of  that  kind; 
my  interests  are  too  large.  You  and  I  are  practical  men. 
We  ought  to  be  able  to  talk  this  matter  over  together  and 
reach  an  understanding.  I  thought  once  of  coming  to 
you  and  explaining  this ;  but  I  was  quite  sure  you  wouldn't 
listen  to  me.  Now  that  you  are  here  I  would  like  to  talk 

615 


THE    FINANCIER 

to  you.  If  you  will  come  up  to  my  room  I  will  be  glad 
to — otherwise  not.  Won't  you  come  up?" 

Butler  saw  that  Cowperwood  had  the  upper  hand  of 
him.  In  spite  of  his  rage,  slowly  but  surely  this  man's 
tentacles  were  fastening  themselves  upon  him.  He  might 
as  well  go  up.  Otherwise  it  was  plain  he  would  get  no 
information.  He  hated  Cowperwood;  but  he  had  to 
do  it. 

"Very  well,"  he  said. 

Cowperwood  led  the  way  quite  amicably,  and,  having 
entered  his  private  office,  closed  the  door  behind  him. 
He  saw  as  plainly  as  anything  that  Butler  was  a  victim 
of  his  feeling  for  Aileen.  He  prepared  to  talk  to  him 
very  sensibly  and  explain  the  whole  situation.  Perhaps 
he  could  soothe  Butler  so  that  he  would  cease  his  political 
attacks  on  him. 

"We  ought  to  be  able  to  talk  this  matter  over  and 
reach  an  understanding,"  he  said  again,  when  they  were 
in  the  room  and  he  had  closed  the  door.  "I  am  not  as 
bad  as  you  think,  though  I  know  I  appear  very  bad." 
Butler  stared  at  him  in  contempt.  "  I  love  your  daughter, 
and  she  loves  me.  I  know  you  are  asking  yourself  how 
I  can  do  this  while  I  am  still  married;  but  I  assure  you 
I  can,  and  that  I  do.  I  am  not  happily  married.  I  had 
expected,  if  this  panic  hadn't  come  along,  to  arrange  with 
my  wife  for  a  divorce  and  marry  Aileen.  My  intentions 
are  perfectly  good.  The  situation  which  you  can  com 
plain  of,  of  course,  is  the  one  you  encountered  a  few  weeks 
ago.  It  was  indiscreet,  but  it  was  entirely  human.  Your 
daughter  does  not  complain — she  understands." 

At  the  mention  of  his  daughter  in  this  connection  Butler 
flushed  with  rage,  but  he  controlled  himself. 

"And  ye  think  because  she  doesn't  complain  that  it's 
all  right,  do  ye?"  he  asked,  sarcastically. 

"From  my  point  of  view,  yes;  from  yours,  no.  You 
have  one  view  of  life,  Mr.  Butler,  and  I  have  another." 

"  Ye're  right  there,"  put  in  Butler,  "for  once,  anyhow." 

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"I  want  to  marry  Aileen,"  Cowperwood  repeated,  for 
emphasis'  sake.  "She  wants  to  marry  me.  Under  the 
circumstances,  however  you  may  feel,  you  can  have  no 
real  objection  to  my  doing  that,  I  am  sure;  yet  you  go 
on  fighting  me — making  it  hard  for  me  to  do  what  you 
really  know  ought  to  be  done." 

Cowperwood  smiled  inwardly  at  this  subtle  presenta 
tion  of  his  case.  He  knew  now,  by  Butler's  very  attitude, 
that  he  had  him  in  a  vulnerable  position  and  could  do 
something  to  improve  his  own. 

"Ye're  a  clever  man,"  said  Butler,  seeing  through  his 
motives  quite  clearly.  "Ye're  a  sharper,  to  my  way  of 
thinkin',  and  it's  no  child  of  mine  I  want  connected  with 
ye.  I'm  not  sayin',  seein'  that  things  are  as  they  are, 
that  if  ye  were  a  free  man  it  wouldn't  be  better  that  she 
should  marry  ye.  It's  the  one  dacent  thing  ye  could  do 
— if  ye  would,  which  I  doubt.  But  that's  nayther  here 
nor  there  now.  What  can  ye  want  with  her  hid  away 
somewhere  ?  Ye  can't  marry  her.  Ye  can't  get  a  divorce. 
Ye've  got  your  hands  full  fightin'  your  lawsuits  and  kap- 
in'  yourself  out  of  jail.  She'll  only  be  an  added  expense 
to  ye,  and  ye'll  be  wantin'  all  the  money  ye  have  for 
other  things,  I'm  thinkin'.  Why  should  ye  want  to  be 
takin'  her  away  from  a  dacent  home  and  makin'  some 
thing  out  of  her  that  ye'd  be  ashamed  to  marry  if  you 
could?  The  laist  ye  could  do,  if  ye  were  any  kind  of  a 
man  at  all,  and  had  any  of  that  thing  that  ye're  plazed  to 
call  love,  would  be  to  lave  her  at  home  and  keep  her  as 
respectable  as  possible.  Mind  ye,  I'm  not  thinkin'  she 
isn't  ten  thousand  times  too  good  for  ye,  whatever  ye've 
made  of  her.  But  if  ye  had  any  sinse  of  dacency  left,  ye 
wouldn't  let  her  shame  her  family  and  break  her  old 
mother's  heart,  and  that  for  no  purpose  except  to  make 
her  worse  than  she  is  already.  What  good  can  ye  get 
out  of  it,  now?  What  good  can  ye  expect  to  come  of  it? 
Be  hivins,  if  ye  had  any  sinse  at  all  I  should  think  ye 
could  see  that  for  yourself.  Ye're  only  addin'  to  your 

617 


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troubles,  not  takin'  away  from  them — and  she'll  not 
thank  ye  for  that  later  on." 

He  stopped,  rather  astonished  that  he  should  have  been 
drawn  into  an  argument  with  Cowperwood  at  all..  His 
contempt  for  the  man  was  so  great  that  he  could  scarcely 
look  at  him,  but  his  duty  and  his  need  was  to  get  Aileen 
back.  Cowperwood  looked  at  him  as  one  who  gives 
serious  attention  to  another.  He  seemed  to  be  thinking 
deeply  over  what  Butler  had  said. 

"To  tell  you  the  truth,  Mr.  Butler,"  he  said,  "I  did 
not  want  Aileen  to  leave  your  home  at  all;  and  she  will 
tell  you  so,  if  you  ever  talk  to  her  about  it.  I  did  my 
best  to  persuade  her  not  to,  and  when  she  insisted  on 
going  the  only  thing  I  could  do  was  to  be  sure  she  would 
be  comfortable  wherever  she  went.  She  was  greatly  out 
raged  to  think  you  should  have  put  detectives  on  her 
trail.  That,  and  the  fact  that  you  wanted  to  send  her 
away  somewhere  against  her  will,  was  the  principal  rea 
son  for  her  leaving.  I  assure  you  I  did  not  want  her  to 
go.  I  think  you  forget  sometimes,  Mr.  Butler,  that 
Aileen  is  a  grown  woman,  and  that  she  has  a  will  of  her 
own.  You  think  I  control  her  to  her  great  disadvantage. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  am  very  much  in  love  with  her,  and 
have  been  for  three  or  four  years;  and  if  you  know  any 
thing  about  love  you  know  that  it  doesn't  always  mean 
control.  I'm  not  doing  Aileen  any  injustice  when  I  say 
that  she  has  had  as  much  influence  on  me  as  I  have  had 
on  her.  I  love  her,  and  that's  the  cause  of  all  the  trouble. 
You  come  and  insist  that  I  shall  return  your  daughter  to 
you.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  don't  know  whether  I  can  or 
not.  I  don't  know  that  she  would  go  if  I  wanted  her  to. 
She  might  turn  on  me  and  say  that  I  didn't  care  for  her 
any  more.  That  is  not  true,  and  I  would  not  want  her  to 
feel  that  way.  She  is  greatly  hurt,  as  I  told  you,  by  what 
you  did  to  her,  and  the  fact  that  you  want  her  to  leave 
Philadelphia.  You  can  do  as  much  to  remedy  that  as  I 
can.  I  could  tell  you  where  she  is,  but  I  do  not  know 

618 


THE    FINANCIER 

that  I  want  to.  Certainly  not  until  I  know  what  your 
attitude  toward  her  and  this  whole  proposition  is  to  be." 

He  paused  and  looked  calmly  at  the  old  contractor, 
who  eyed  him  grimly  in  return.  It  was  a  wonderful 
situation. 

"What  proposition  are  ye  talkin'  about?"  asked  Butler. 

"Well,  it's  simple  enough,"  replied  Cowperwood.  "I 
should  like  to  have  you  withdraw  your  opposition  to 
Aileen's  remaining  in  Philadelphia,  for  one  thing;  and 
for  another,  I  should  like  you  to  stop  your  attacks  on  me." 
Cowperwood  smiled  in  an  ingratiating  way.  He  hoped 
really  to  placate  Butler  in  part  by  his  generous  attitude 
throughout  this  procedure.  "I  can't  make  you  do  that, 
of  course,  unless  you  want  to.  I  really  did  not  think  I 
could  when  I  said  it.  I  merely  bring  it  up,  Mr.  Butler, 
because  I  am  sure  that  if  it  hadn't  been  for  Aileen  you 
would  have  taken  a  very  different  attitude  toward  me. 
I  understood  you  received  an  anonymous  letter,  and 
that  afternoon  you  called  your  loan  with  me.  Since  then 
I  have  heard  from  one  source  and  another  that  you  were 
strongly  against  me,  and  I  merely  wish  to  say  that  I 
wish  you  wouldn't  be.  I  am  not  guilty  of  embezzling  any 
sixty  thousand  dollars,  and  you  know  it.  My  intentions 
were  of  the  best.  I  did  not  think  I  was  going  to  fail  at 
the  time  I  used  those  certificates,  and  if  it  hadn't  been  for 
several  other  loans  that  were  called  I  would  have  gone  on 
to  the  end  of  the  month  and  put  them  back  in  time,  as 
I  always  have.  I  have  always  valued  your  friendship 
very  highly,  and  I  am  very  sorry  to  lose  it.  Now  I  have 
said  all  I  am  going  to  say." 

Butler  looked  at  Cowperwood  with  shrewd,  calculating 
eyes.  He  knew  as  well  as  any  one  how  fine  this  role 
was  that  Cowperwood  had  enacted.  The  man  had  some 
merit,  but  much  unconscionable  evil  in  him.  Butler 
knew  very  well  how  he  had  taken  the  check,  and  a  good 
many  other  things  in  connection  with  it.  The  manner 
in  which  he  had  played  his  cards  to-night  was  on  a  par 

619 


CHAPTER  LX 

ALTHOUGH  it  was  nearly  eleven  o'clock  when  he  arrived 
r\  at  the  Calligans',  Aileen  had  not  yet  gone  to  bed. 
In  her  bedroom  upstairs  she  was  confiding  to  Mamie  and 
Mrs.  Calligan  some  of  her  social  experiences  when  a  ring 
came  at  the  door,  and  Mrs.  Calligan  went  down  and 
opened  it  to  Cowperwood. 

"Miss  Butler  is  here,  I  believe,"  he  said.  "Will  you 
tell  her  that  there  is  some  one  here  from  her  father?" 

Although  Aileen  had  instructed  that  her  presence  here 
was  not  to  be  divulged  even  to  the  members  of  her  family, 
the  force  of  Cowperwood's  presence  and  the  mention  of 
Butler's  name  cost  Mrs.  Calligan  her  presence  of  mind. 

"Wait  a  moment,"  she  said;  "I'll  see." 

She  stepped  back,  and  Cowperwood  promptly  stepped 
in,  taking  off  his  hat  with  the  air  of  one  who  was  satisfied. 
Aileen  was  there.  "  Say  to  her  that  I  only  want  to  speak 
to  her  for  a  few  moments,"  he  called,  as  Mrs.  Calligan 
went  up-stairs,  raising  his  voice  in  the  hope  that  Aileen 
might  hear.  She  did,  and  came  down  promptly.  She 
was  very  much  astonished  to  think  that  Cowperwood 
should  come  so  soon,  and  fancied,  in  her  vanity,  that  there 
must  be  great  excitement  in  her  home.  She  would  have 
greatly  grieved  if  there  had  not  been. 

The  Calligans  would  have  been  pleased  to  hear,  but 
Cowperwood  was  cautious.  As  she  came  down  the  stairs 
he  put  his  finger  to  his  lips  in  sign  for  silence,  and  said, 
"This  is  Miss  Butler,  I  believe." 

"Yes,"  replied  Aileen,  with  a  secret  smile.  Her  one 
desire  was  to  kiss  him.  "What's  the  trouble?"  she  asked, 
softly. 

622 


THE    FINANCIER 

"  You'll  have  to  go  back,  dear,  I'm  afraid,"  whispered 
Cowperwood.  "You'll  have  everything  in  a  turmoil  if 
you  don't.  It  may  be  a  good  deal  of  help  to  me  if  you 
do.  Your  father  is  over  at  my  place  now,  waiting  for 
you.  Let  me  tell  you — "  He  went  off  into  a  complete 
description  of  his  conversation  with  Butler  and  his  own 
views  in  the  matter.  Aileen's  expression  changed  from 
time  to  time  as  the  various  phases  of  the  matter  were  put 
before  her;  but,  persuaded  by  the  clearness  with  which 
Cowperwood  put  the  matter,  and  by  his  assurance  that 
they  could  continue  their  relations  as  before  uninterrupted, 
once  this  was  settled,  she  decided  to  return.  In  a  way, 
her  father's  surrender  was  a  great  triumph.  She  made 
her  farewells  to  the  Calligans,  saying,  with  a  smile,  that 
they  could  not  do  without  her  at  home,  and  that  she  would 
send  for  her  belongings  later,  and  returned  with  Cowper 
wood  to  his  own  door.  He  asked  her  to  wait  in  the  run 
about  while  he  sent  her  father  down. 

"Well?"  said  Butler,  turning  on  him  when  he  opened 
the  door,  and  not  seeing  Aileen. 

"You'll  find  her  do\vn-stairs  in  my  runabout,"  observed 
Cowperwood.  "You  may  use  that  if  you  choose.  I  will 
send  my  man  for  it." 

"No,  thank  you;  we'll  walk,"  said  Butler. 

Cowperwood  called  his  servant  to  take  charge  of  the 
vehicle,  and  Butler  stalked  solemnly  out. 

He  had  to  admit  to  himself  that  the  influence  of  Cow 
perwood  over  his  daughter  was  deadly,  and  probably 
permanent.  The  best  he  could  do  would  be  to  keep  her 
within  the  precincts  of  the  home,  where  she  might  still, 
possibly,  be  brought  to  her  senses.  He  did  not  know 
what  to  think.  He  held  a  very  guarded  conversation 
with  her  on  his  way  home,  for  fear  that  she  would  take 
additional  offense.  Argument  was  out  of  the  question. 

"Ye  might  have  talked  with  me  once  more,  Aileen," 
he  said,  thinking  of  what  the  house  would  have  been  with 
out  her,  "before  ye  left.  Yer  mother  would  be  in  a  ter- 

623 


THE    FINANCIER 

rible  state  if  she  knew  ye  were  gone.  She  doesn't  know 
yet.  Ye'll  have  to  say  ye  stayed  somewhere  to  dinner." 

"I  was  at  the  Calligans,"  replied  Aileen.  "That's 
easy  enough.  Mama  won't  think  anything  about  it." 

"It's  a  sore  heart  I  have,  Aileen.  I  hope  ye'll  think 
over  your  ways  and  do  better.  I'll  not  say  any  thin' 
more  now." 

Aileen  returned  to  her  room,  decidedly  triumphant  in 
her  mood  for  the  moment,  and  things  went  on  apparently 
in  the  Butler  household  as  before.  But  those  who  im 
agine  that  this  defeat  permanently  altered  the  attitude  of 
Butler  toward  Cowperwood  are  mistaken. 

In  the  mean  while  Cowperwood  was  going  on  doing  his 
best  to  repair  his  shattered  forces.  He  took  up  his  work 
where  he  left  off;  but  the  possibility  of  reorganizing  his 
business  was  distinctly  modified  since  his  conviction. 
Because  of  his  action  in  trying  to  protect  his  largest 
creditors  at  the  time  of  his  failure,  he  fancied  that  once 
he  was  free  again,  if  ever  he  got  free,  his  credit,  other 
things  being  equal,  would  be  good  with  those  who  could 
help  him  most — say,  Cooke  &  Co.,  Clark  &  Co.,  Drexel 
&  Co.,  and  the  Girard  National  Bank,  providing  his  per 
sonal  reputation  was  not  so  badly  injured  by  his  sentence 
that  all  his  friends  were  alienated.  Would  they  be? 
That  was  a  knotty  question.  Some  of  them,  like  Davison 
and  Leigh,  would  certainly  not  be,  he  hoj3ed.  Fortunate 
ly  for  his  own  hopefulness  of  mind,  he  failed  fully  to  realize 
what  a  depressing  effect  a  legal  decision  of  this  character, 
sound  or  otherwise,  has  on  the  minds  of  even  the  most 
enthusiastic  supporters. 

"You  know,"  observed  President  Davison  of  the  Gir 
ard  National  to  one  of  his  friends,  the  morning  after  Cow 
perwood  was  convicted,  "  I  don't  believe  that  it  will  be 
possible  to  put  young  Cowperwood  on  his  feet  after  this. 
It  looks  pretty  bad  to  me.  There  have  been  a  good  many 
men  who  were  friendly  to  him,  but  this  will  alienate  them. 

624 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

I  confidently  expected  that  he  would  be  acquitted,  but 
since  he  hasn't — "  He  shook  his  head  significantly. 

"Quite  right,"  replied  the  other,  who  was  also  a  finan 
cier.  "Give  a  dog  a  bad  name." 

They  drifted  to  other  subjects;  but  it  was  quite  plain 
from  this  which  way  the  wind  was  blowing.  Cowper- 
wood's  best  friends  in  the  financial  world,  whom  he  had 
done  considerable  to  protect  at  the  time  of  his  assign 
ment,  were  convinced  that  his  was  a  sinking  ship.  It  was 
some  student  of  finance  that  once  observed  that  nothing 
is  so  sensitive  as  money,  and  the  financial  mind  partakes 
largely  of  the  quality  of  the  thing  in  which  it  deals.  There 
was  no  use  trying  to  do  much  for  a  man  who  might  be 
going  to  prison  for  a  term  of  years.  It  couldn't  be  done. 
Something  might  be  done  for  him  possibly  in  connection 
with  the  governor,  providing  he  lost  his  case  before  the 
Supreme  Court  and  was  actually  sentenced  to  prison;  but 
that  was  two  months  off,  or  more,  and  they  could  not 
tell  what  the  outcome  of  these  would  be.  So  Cowper- 
wood's  repeated  appeals  for  assistance,  extension  of 
credit,  or  the  acceptance  of  some  plan  he  had  for  his 
general  rehabilitation,  were  met  with  the  kindly  evasions 
of  those  who  were  doubtful.  They  would  think  it  over. 
They  would  see  about  it.  Certain  things  were  standing 
in  the  way.  And  so  on,  and  so  forth,  through  all  the  end 
less  excuses  of  those  who  do  not  care  to  act.  Cowper- 
wood  went  about  the  money  world  in  his  customary  jaunty 
way,  greeting  all  those  whom  he  had  known  there  many 
years  and  pretending,  when  asked,  to  be  very  hopeful, 
to  be  doing  very  well;  but  they  did  not  believe  him,  and 
he  really  did  not  care  whether  they  did  or  not.  His  busi 
ness  was  to  persuade  or  over-persuade  any  one  who  could 
really  be  of  assistance  to  him,  and  at  this  task  he  worked 
untiringly,  ignoring  all  others. 

"Why,  hello,  Frank,"  his  friends  would  call,  on  seeing 
him.  "How  are  you  getting  on?" 

"Fine!  Fine!"  he  would  reply,  cheerfully.  "Never 
625 


THE    FINANCIER 

better,"  and  he  would  explain  in  a  general  way  how  his 
affairs  were  being  handled.  He  conveyed  much  of  his 
own  optimism  to  all  those  who  knew  him  and  were  inter 
ested  in  his  welfare,  but  of  course  there  were  many  who 
were  not. 

He  and  Steger  were  constantly  appearing  in  courts  of 
law;  he  was  constantly  being  re-examined  in  some  peti 
tion  in  bankruptcy  or  waiting  on  some  banker  who 
might  tell  him  something  favorable  a  little  later.  It  was 
a  heartbreaking  task,  but  he  did  not  flinch.  He  wanted 
to  stay  in  Philadelphia  and  fight  the  thing  to  a  finish — 
putting  himself  where  he  had  been  before,  rehabilitating 
himself  in  the  eyes  of  the  public.  He  felt  that  he  could 
do  it,  too,  if  he  were  not  actually  sent  to  prison  for  a 
long  term;  and  even  then  he  might  when  he  got  out 
again;  but  he  did  not  want  to  go  to  prison,  and  he  did 
not  want  his  quondam  friends  to  be  so  pessimistic  about 
his  condition  now.  But  he  was  in  a  very  deep  slough  of 
despair,  and  only  he  could  have  seen  any  possibility  of  get 
ting  out  of  it  so  far  as  Philadelphia  was  concerned. 

His  worst  anxiety  was  that  if  he  were  sent  to  the  pen 
itentiary,  or  adjudged  a  bankrupt,  or  both,  he  would 
probably  lose  the  privilege  of  a  seat  on  'change,  and  that 
would  close  to  him  the  most  distinguished  avenue  of  his 
prosperity  here  in  Philadelphia  for  some  time,  if  not 
forever.  At  present,  because  of  his  complications,  his 
seat  had  been  attached  as  an  asset,  and  he  could  not 
act.  Edward  and  Joseph,  almost  the  only  employees  he 
could  afford,  were  still  acting  for  him  in  a  small  way;  but 
the  other  members  of  'change  naturally  suspected  his 
brothers  as  his  agents,  and  any  talk  that  they  might 
raise  of  going  into  business  for  themselves  merely  indi 
cated  to  other  brokers  and  bankers  that  Cowperwood  was 
contemplating  some  concealed  move  which  would  not 
necessarily  be  advantageous  to  his  creditors,  and  against 
the  law  anyhow.  Yet  he  must  remain  on  'change,  what 
ever  happened,  potentially  if  not  actively;  and  so  in  his 

626 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

quick  mental  searchings  he  hit  upon  the  idea  that  in 
order  to  forfend  against  the  event  of  his  being  put  into 
prison  or  thrown  into  bankruptcy,  or  both,  he  ought  to 
form  a  subsidiary  silent  partnership  with  some  man  who 
was  or  would  be  well  liked  on  'change,  and  whom  he  could 
use  as  a  cat's-paw  and  a  dummy. 

He  began  to  think  on  whom  his  silent  partner  would 
be,  convicted  or  no,  and  finally  he  hit  upon  a  man  whom 
he  thought  would  do.  He  did  not  amount  to  much — had 
a  small  business;  but  he  was  honest,  and  he  liked  Cowper- 
wood.  His  name  was  Wingate — Stephen  Wingate — and 
he  was  eking  out  a  not  too  robust  existence  in  South  Third 
Street  as  a  broker.  He  was  forty-five  years  of  age,  of 
medium  height,  fairly  thick-set,  not  at  all  unprepossessing, 
and  rather  intelligent  and  active,  but  not  too  forceful  and 
pushing  in  spirit.  He  really  needed  a  man  like  Cowper- 
wood  to  make  him  into  something,  if  ever  he  was  to  be 
made.  He  had  a  seat  on  'change,  and  was  well  thought 
of;  respected,  but  not  so  very  prosperous.  In  times  past 
he  had  asked  small  favors  of  Cowperwood — the  use  of 
small  loans  at  a  moderate  rate  of  interest,  tips,  and  so 
forth ;  and  Cowperwood,  because  he  liked  him,  felt  a  little 
sorry  for  him,  had  granted  them.  Now  Wingate  was  slowly 
drifting  down  toward  a  none  too  successful  old  age,  and 
was  as  tractable  as  such  a  man  would  naturally  be.  No 
one  for  the  time  being  would  suspect  him  of  being  a 
hireling  of  Cowperwood's,  and  the  latter  could  depend 
on  him  to  execute  his  orders  to  the  letter.  He  sent  for 
him  three  weeks  after  he  was  convicted  for  embezzlement 
and  was  out  on  bail  again,  and  had  a  long  conversation 
with  him.  He  told  him  just  what  the  situation  was, 
what  he  thought  he  could  do  for  him  (Wingate)  if  the 
latter  were  his  partner,  how  much  of  his  business  he  would 
want  for  himself,  and  so  on,  and  found  him  agreeable. 
Wingate  knew  Cowperwood,  of  course,  as  a  brilliant 
operator,  and  thought  that  in  spite  of  his  present  and 
future  handicap  he  would  be  successful.  He  was  not  doing 

627 


THE    FINANCIER 

at  all  well  himself  just  at  this  stage,  and  this  was  a  chance 
to  connect  himself  with  a  very  able  man.  The  panic 
had  almost  sunk  his  frail  little  craft.  So  he  consented 
cheerfully. 

"I'll  be  glad  to  do  anything  you  say,  Mr.  Cowper- 
wood,"  he  assured  the  latter,  when  he  heard  his  story. 
"I  know  whatever  happens  that  you'll  protect  me,  and 
there's  nobody  in  the  world  I  would  rather  work  with 
or  have  greater  respect  for.  This  storm  will  all  blow 
over,  and  you'll  be  all  right.  We  can  try  it,  anyhow.  If 
it  don't  work  out  you  can  see  what  you  want  to  do  about 
it  later." 

Cowperwood  looked  at  his  latest  acquisition  in  a  critical 
manner.  Would  he  do  ?  Very  likely.  Edward  and  Joseph 
could  be  introduced  into  the  business  later,  if  it  war 
ranted.  Wingate  promised  to  come  daily  to  the  prison, 
if  such  a  thing  were  ever  necessary  or  possible;  and  so 
this  relationship  was  tentatively  entered  into  now. 
Cowperwood  began  to  act  in  a  small  way  through  him 
already.  But  he  had  little  time.  Suits  and  counter-suits 
against  him  were  either  being  tried  or  filed  almost  daily. 
He  was  being  examined  at  odd  times  in  various  bank 
ruptcy  proceedings.  He  had  so  many  people  to  see  and 
things  to  do  that  he  could  not  devote  himself  much  to 
the  main  task  of  making  money,  which  was  so  essential. 


CHAPTER   LXI 

MEANWHILE  four  weeks  had  passed  since  Cowper- 
wood  had  been  released  upon  a  certificate  of  reason 
able  doubt,  and  at  the  end  of  that  time  both  Harper 
Steger  and  Dennis  Shannon  appeared  before  the  judges  of 
the  State  Supreme  Court,  and  argued  pro  and  con  as  to 
the  reasonableness  of  granting  him  a  new  trial.  Through 
his  lawyer,. Steger,  Cowperwood  made  a  learned  appeal  to 
the  Supreme  Court  judges,  showing  how  he  had  been  un 
fairly  indicted  in  the  first  place,  how  there  was  no  real 
substantial  evidence  on  which  to  base  a  charge  of  larceny 
or  anything  else.  The  jury,  an  ordinary  body  of  men 
not  trained  in  finance,  were  not  capable  mentally,  he 
urged,  of  dealing  with  such  a  subtle  problem.  They 
could  not  possibly  be  made  to  understand  the  ramifica 
tions  of  finance.  All  they  saw  was  the  particular  check 
of  sixty  thousand  dollars  and  its  technically  illegal  dis 
appearance.  They  could  not  be  made  to  understand  how 
this  was  all  accidentally  involved  with  a  condition  of 
which  he  was  not  aware  at  the  time — his  insolvency — and 
of  a  system  and  precedent  which  he  did  not  create.  Such 
a  case,  he  maintained,  should  not  be  tried  by  a  jury  at 
all.  It  ought  to  be  submitted  to  a  committee  of  financial 
experts,  men  in  Third  Street,  who  knew.  It  took  Harper 
Steger  two  hours  and  ten  minutes  to  make  his  argument, 
and  District-Attorney  Shannon  longer  to  make  his  reply, 
during  which  the  five  judges  on  the  bench,  men  of  con 
siderable  legal  experience  but  no  great  financial  under 
standing,  listened  with  great  attention.  Three  of  them, 
Judges  Smithson,  Rainey,  and  Beckwith,  men  most  amen- 

629 


THE    FINANCIER 

able  to  the  political  feeling  of  the  time  and  the  wishes  of 
the  bosses,  were  little  interested  in  this  story  of  Cowper- 
wood's  transaction,  particularly  since  his  relations  with 
Butler's  daughter  and  Butler's  consequent  opposition 
to  him  had  come  to  them.  They  fancied  that  in  a  way 
they  were  considering  the  whole  matter  fairly  and  im 
partially;  but  the  manner  in  which  Cowperwood  had 
treated  Butler  was  never  out  of  their  minds.  Two  of 
them,  Judges  Marvin  and  Rafalsky,  who  were  men  of 
larger  sympathies  and  understanding  than  the  other 
three,  but  of  no  greater  political  freedom,  did  feel  that 
Cowperwood  had  been  badly  used  thus  far,  but  they  did 
not  see  what  they  could  do  about  it.  He  had  put  him 
self  in  a  most  unsatisfactory  position,  politically  and 
socially.  They  understood  and  took  into  consideration 
his  great  financial  and  social  losses  which  Steger  described 
accurately;  and  one  of  them,  Judge  Rafalsky,  because 
of  a  similar  event  in  his  own  life  in  so  far  as  a  girl  was 
concerned,  was  inclined  to  argue  strongly  against  the 
conviction  of  Cowperwood;  but,  owing  to  his  political 
connections  and  obligations,  he  realized  that  it  would 
not  be  wise  politically  to  stand  out  against  what  was 
wanted.  Still,  when  he  and  Marvin  learned  that  Judges 
Smithson,  Rainey,  and  Beckwith  were  inclined  to  con 
vict  Cowperwood  without  much  argument,  they  decided 
to  hand  down  a  dissenting  opinion.  The  point  involved 
was  a  very  knotty  one.  Cowperwood  might  carry  it  to 
the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States  on  some  funda 
mental  principle  of  liberty  of  action.  Anyhow,  other 
judges  in  other  courts  in  Pennsylvania  and  elsewhere 
would  be  inclined  to  examine  the  decision  in  this  case, 
it  was  so  important.  The  minority  decided  that  it  would 
not  do  them  any  harm  to  hand  down  a  dissenting  opinion. 
The  politicians  would  not  mind  as  long  as  Cowperwood 
was  convicted — would  like  it  better,  in  fact.  It  looked 
better,  fairer.  Besides,  Marvin  and  Rafalsky  did  not 
care  to  be  included,  if  they  could  help  it,  with  Smithson 

630 


THE    FINANCIER 

Rainey,  and  Beckwith  in  a  sweeping  condemnation  of  Cow- 
perwood.  There  was  much  to  be  said  for  his  point  of  view. 
His  treatment  of  Butler,  through  the  latter's  daughter — 
well,  that  was  a  very  human  matter.  The  flesh  is  weak. 
So  all  five  judges  fancied  they  were  considering  the  whole 
matter  rather  fairly  and  impartially,  as  men  will  under 
such  circumstances.  Cowperwood  was  not  innocent  by 
any  means.  His  whole  career  indicated  that.  If  he  must 
be  denied  a  new  trial,  it  was  a  good  thing  that  he  was 
really  guilty  of  many  things  and  deserving  of  punishment. 
At  least,  Smithson,  Rainey,  and  Beckwith  thought  so. 
The  former,  speaking  for  himself  and  Judges  Rainey 
and  Beckwith  (the  opinion  was  written  by  Judge  Smith- 
son,  and  handed  down  on  the  eleventh  of  February,  1872), 
wrote  as  follows: 

The  defendant,  Frank  A.  Cowperwood,  asks  that  the  finding  of 
the  jury  in  the  lower  court  (the  State  of  Pennsylvania  vs.  Frank  A. 
Cowperwood)  be  reversed  and  a  new  trial  granted.  This  court  can 
not  see  that  any  substantial  injustice  has  been  done  the  defendant. 
[Here  followed  a  rather  lengthy  resume  of  the  history  of  the  case, 
in  which  it  was  pointed  out  that  the  custom  and  precedent  of  the 
treasurer's  office,  to  say  nothing  of  Cowperwood's  easy  method  of 
doing  business  with  the  city  treasury,  could  have  nothing  to  do  with 
his  responsibility  for  failure  to  observe  both  the  spirit  and  the  letter 
of  the  law.]  The  obtaining  of  goods  under  color  of  legal  process 
[went  on  Judge  Smithson,  speaking  for  the  majority]  may  amount 
to  larceny.  In  the  present  case  it  was  the  province  of  the  jury  to 
ascertain  the  felonious  intent.  They  have  settled  that  against  the 
defendant  as  a  question  of  fact,  and  the  court  cannot  say  that  there 
was  not  sufficient  evidence  to  sustain  the  verdict.  For  what  pur 
pose  did  the  defendant  get  the  check?  He  was  upon  the  eve  of  fail 
ure.  He  had  already  hypothecated  for  his  own  debts  the  loan  of 
the  city  placed  in  his  hands  for  sale — he  had  unlawfully  obtained 
five  hundred  thousand  dollars  in  cash  as  loans;  and  it  is  reasonable 
to  suppose  that  he  could  obtain  nothing  more  from  the  city  treasury 
by  any  ordinary  means.  Then  it  is  that  he  goes  there,  and,  by  means 
of  a  falsehood  implied  if  not  actual,  obtains  sixty  thousand  dollars 
more.  The  jury  has  found  the  intent  with  which  this  was  done. 

It  was  in  these  words  that  Cowperwood's  appeal  for  a 
new  trial  was  denied  by  the  majority. 

631 


THE    FINANCIER 

For  himself  and  Judge  Rafalsky,  Judge  Marvin,  dis 
senting,  wrote: 

It  is  plain  from  the  evidence  in  the  case  that  Mr.  Cowperwood 
did  not  receive  the  check  without  authority  as  agent  to  do  so,  and 
it  has  not  been  clearly  demonstrated  that  within  his  capacity  as 
agent  he  did  not  perform  or  intend  to  perform  the  full  measure  of 
the  obligation  which  the  receipt  of  this  check  implied.  It  was  shown 
in  the  trial  that  as  a  matter  of  policy  it  was  understood  that  pur 
chases  for  the  sinking-fund  should  not  be  known  or  understood  in 
the  market  or  by  the  public  in  that  light,  and  that  Mr.  Cowper 
wood  as  agent  was  to  have  an  absolutely  free  hand  in  the  disposal 
of  his  assets  and  liabilities  so  long  as  the  ultimate  result  was  satis 
factory.  There  was  no  particular  time  when  the  loan  was  to  be 
bought,  nor  was  there  any  particular  amount  mentioned  at  any  time 
to  be  purchased.  Unless  the  defendant  intended  at  the  time  he 
received  the  check  fraudulently  to  appropriate  it  he  could  not  be 
convicted  even  on  the  first  count.  The  verdict  of  the  jury  does  not 
establish  this  fact;  the  evidence  does  not  show  conclusively  that  it 
could  be  established;  and  the  same  jury,  upon  three  other  counts, 
found  the  defendant  guilty  without  the  semblance  of  shadow  of 
evidence.  How  can  we  say  that  their  conclusions  upon  the  first 
count  are  unerring  when  they  so  palpably  erred  on  the  other  counts? 
It  is  the  opinion  of  the  minority  that  the  verdict  of  the  jury  in 
charging  larceny  on  the  first  count  is  not  valid,  and  that  that  ver 
dict  should  be  set  aside  and  a  new  trial  granted. 

Judge  Rafalsky,  a  meditative  and  yet  practical  man 
of  Jewish  extraction  but  peculiarly  American  appearance, 
felt  called  upon  to  write  a  third  opinion  which  should 
especially  reflect  his  own  cogitation  and  be  a  criticism 
on  the  majority  as  well  as  a  slight  variation  from  and 
addition  to  the  points  on  which  he  agreed  with  Judge 
Marvin.  It  was  a  knotty  question,  this  of  Cowper- 
wood's  guilt,  and,  aside  from  the  political  necessity  of 
convicting  him,  nowhere  was  it  more  clearly  shown  than 
in  these  varying  opinions  of  the  superior  court.  Judge 
Rafalsky  held,  for  instance,  that  if  a  crime  had  been 
committed  at  all,  it  was  not  that  known  as  larceny, 
and  he  went  on  to  add: 

It  is  impossible,  from  the  evidence,  to  come  to  the  conclusion 
either  that  Cowperwood  did  not  intend  shortly  to  deliver  the  loan 

632 


THE    FINANCIER 

or  that  Albert  Stires,  the  chief  clerk,  or  the  city  treasurer  did  not 
intend  to  part  not  only  with  the  possession,  but  also  and  absolutely 
with  the  property  in  the  check  and  the  money  represented  by  it. 
It  was  testified  by  Mr.  Stires  that  Mr.  Cowperwood  said  he  had 
bought  certificates  of  city  loan  to  this  amount,  and  it  has  not  been 
clearly  demonstrated  that  he  had  not.  His  non-placement  of  the 
same  in  the  sinking-fund  must  in  all  fairness,  the  letter  of  the  law 
to  the  contrary  notwithstanding,  be  looked  upon  and  judged  in  the 
light  of  custom.  Was  it  his  custom  so  to  do?  In  my  judgment  the 
doctrine  now  announced  by  the  majority  of  the  court  extends  the 
crime  of  constructive  larceny  to  such  limits  that  any  business  man 
who  engages  in  extensive  and  perfectly  legitimate  stock  transactions 
may,  before  he  knows  it,  by  a  sudden  panic  in  the  market  or  a  fire, 
as  in  this  instance,  become  a  felon.  When  a  principle  is  asserted 
which  establishes  such  a  precedent,  and  may  lead  to  such  results, 
it  is,  to  say  the  least,  startling. 

These  opinions  were  handed  down  on  February  nth, 
six  weeks  after  Steger  had  made  his  appeal  and  two  months 
and  more  after  Cowperwood  had  been  tried  and  con 
victed.  While  he  was  notably  comforted  by  the  dis 
senting  opinions  of  the  judges  in  minority,  which  he 
could  use  to  his  advantage  in  his  future  commercial 
relations,  and  while  he  had  been  schooling  himself  to 
expect  the  worst  in  this  connection  and  had  been  ar 
ranging  his  affairs  as  well  as  he  could  in  anticipation  of 
it,  he  was  still  bitterly  disappointed.  It  would  be  untrue 
to  say  that,  strong  and  self-reliant  as  he  normally  was, 
he  did  not  suffer.  He  was  not  without  sensibilities  of 
the  highest  order,  only  they  were  governed  and  controlled 
in  him  by  that  cold  iron  thing,  his  reason,  which  never 
forsook  him.  There  was  no  appeal  from  this  appeal  save 
to  the  United  States  Supreme  Court,  as  Steger  pointed 
out,  and  there  only  on  the  constitutionality  of  some  phase 
of  the  decision  and  his  rights  as  a  citizen,  of  which  the 
Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States  must  take  cognizance. 
This  was  a  tedious  and  expensive  thing  to  do.  It  was  not 
exactly  obvious  at  the  moment  on  what  point  he  could 
make  an  appeal.  It  would  involve  a  long  delay — per- 
21  633 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

haps  a  year  and  a  half,  perhaps  longer — at  the  end  of 
which  period  he  might  have  to  serve  his  prison  term  any 
how,  and  pending  which  he  would  certainly  have  to  under 
go  incarceration  for  a  time. 

On  hearing  the  news  of  Cowperwood's  conviction  (it 
was  three  o'clock  of  a  Wednesday  afternoon),  Steger  had 
sent  for  Cowperwood  to  come  over  to  his  office,  and  on 
receiving  the  note  the  latter  had  instinctively  known  what 
it  was  about.  He  was  still  in  his  old  banking  office  in 
Third  Street,  where,  because  he  could  be  of  most  use  to 
himself  and  others,  he  had  constantly  retained  a  room; 
and  on  this  afternoon  he  was  engrossed  in  a  plan  to  dis 
entangle  the  old  Seventeenth  and  Nineteenth  Street  rail 
way  lines  from  his  other  assets,  and  have  it  bought  in  for 
his  benefit  by  the  Drexel  company,  or  Davison  and  an 
allied  group  of  friends,  who  would  let  him  manage  it  and 
possibly,  eventually,  buy  it.  On  the  receipt  of  Steger's 
note  he  took  down  his  hat  from  the  little  private  locker 
and  went  over  to  see  him. 

Steger  was  waiting,  serious,  concemed,  hardly  knowing 
how  to  face  out  this  last  blow,  and  yet  gratified  that  he 
had  been  so  obviously  coincided  with  by  two  of  the 
judges. 

"Well,  Harper,"  said  Cowperwood,  on  arriving,  a 
peculiar  twinkle  in  his  eye,  which  was  not  wholly  gay, 
"I  suppose  I've  lost.  I  don't  know  what  else  you  could 
want  just  now." 

"Yes,  Frank,"  replied  Steger;  "that's  just  it.  We've 
lost.  I  thought  you  might  think  it  was  that.  Still,  I 
didn't  want  to  say  so.  Three  to  two  against  us.  I've 
sent  for  a  transcript  of  the  opinions." 

He  paused  and  looked  at  Cowperwood,  who  in  turn 
looked  speculatively  at  the  floor  for  a  moment. 

"Well,  I  don't  see  that  there  is  anything  more  to  be 
done  in  this  matter  one  way  or  the  other,"  he  replied,  at 
last,  looking  up.  "I  don't  see  what  can  be  done.  You 
say  the  matter  can  be  carried  to  the  Supreme  Court  on 

634 


THE    FINANCIER 

a  technicality,  but  that  won't  stop  me  from  going  to  jail 
just  now.  I  have  to  go  or  I  have  to  leave  the  country, 
and  I've  made  up  my  mind  to  go.  I  can  fight  this  out 
right  here  in  Philadelphia  in  the  long  run  and  win.  I 
can  get  that  decision  reversed  in  the  Supreme  Court,  or 
I  can  get  the  governor  to  pardon  me  after  a  time,  I  think. 
I'm  not  going  to  run  away,  and  everybody  knows  I'm 
not.  These  people  that  think  they  have  got  me  down 
haven't  got  one  corner  of  me  whipped.  I'll  get  out  of 
this  thing  after  a  while,  and  when  I  do  I'll  show  some  of 
these  petty  little  politicians  what  it  means  to  put  up 
a  real  fight.  They'll  never  get  a  damned  dollar  out  of 
me  now — not  a  dollar.  I  did  intend  to  pay  that  five  hun 
dred  thousand  dollars  some  time  if  they  had  let  me  go. 
Now  they  can  whistle." 

He  set  his  teeth  for  the  moment  with  an  ugly  Cowper- 
woodish  set,  and  his  gray  eyes  fairly  snapped  their  deter 
mination;  but  his  face  modified  a  moment  after  to  its  usual 
bland,  pleasant  expression. 

"Well,  I've  done  all  I  can,  Frank,"  pleaded  Steger, 
sympathetically.  "You'll  do  me  the  justice  to  say  that 
I  put  up  the  best  fight  I  knew  how.  I  may  not  know 
how — you'll  have  to  answer  for  that — but  within  my 
limits  I've  done  the  best  I  can.  I  can  do  a  few  things 
more  to  carry  this  thing  on,  if  you  want  me  to,  but  I'm 
going  to  leave  it  to  you  now.  Whatever  you  say  goes." 

"Don't  talk  nonsense  at  this  stage,"  replied  Cowper- 
wood,  testily.  "I  know  whether  I'm  satisfied  or  not, 
and  I'd  soon  tell  you  if  I  wasn't.  I  think  you  might  as 
well  go  on  and  see  if  you  can  find  some  definite  grounds 
for  carrying  it  to  the  Supreme  Court,  but  meanwhile 
I'll  begin  my  sentence.  I  suppose  Payderson  will  be 
naming  a  day  to  have  me  brought  before  him  now  shortly." 

"It  depends  on  how  you'd  like  to  have  it,  Frank. 
I  could  get  a  stay  of  sentence  for  a  week,  maybe,  or  ten 
days,  if  it  will  do  you  any  good.  Shannon  won't  make 
any  objection  to  that,  I'm  sure.  There's  only  one  hitch. 

635 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

Jaspers  will  be  around  here  to-morrow  looking  for  you. 
It's  his  duty  to  take  you  into  custody  again,  once  he's 
notified  that  your  appeal  has  been  denied.  He'll  be 
wanting  to  lock  you  up  unless  you  pay  him,  but  we  can 
fix  that.  If  you  do  want  to  wait,  and  want  any  time  off, 
I  suppose  he'll  arrange  to  let  you  out  with  a  deputy;  but 
I'm  afraid  you'll  have  to  stay  there  nights.  They're 
pretty  strict  about  that  since  that  Albertson  case  of  a 
few  years  ago." 

Steger  referred  to  the  case  of  a  noted  bank  cashier 
who,  being  let  out  of  the  county  jail  at  night  in  the  al 
leged  custody  of  a  deputy,  was  permitted  to  escape. 
There  had  been  emphatic  and  severe  condemnation  of 
the  sheriff's  office  at  the  time,  and  since  then,  repute  or 
no  repute,  money  or  no  money,  convicted  criminals  were 
supposed  to  stay  in  the  county  jail  at  night  at  least. 

Cowperwood  meditated  this  calmly,  looking  out  of  the 
lawyer's  window  into  Second  Street.  He  did  not  much 
fear  anything  that  might  happen  to  him  in  Jaspers 's 
charge  since  his  first  taste  of  that  popular  gentleman's 
hospitality,  although  he  did  object  to  spending  nights  in 
the  county  jail  when  his  general  term  of  imprisonment 
was  being  reduced  no  whit  thereby.  All  that  he  could 
do  now  in  connection  with  his  affairs,  unless  he  could 
have  months  of  freedom,  could  be  as  well  adjusted  from 
a  prison  cell  as  from  his  Third  Street  office — not  quite, 
but  nearly  so.  Anyhow,  why  parley?  He  was  facing  a 
prison  term,  and  he  might  as  well  accept  it  without 
further  ado.  He  might  take  a  day  or  two  finally  to  look 
after  his  affairs;  but  beyond  that,  why  bother? 

"When,  in  the  ordinary  course  of  events,  if  you  did 
nothing  at  all,  would  I  come  up  for  sentence?" 

"Oh,  Friday  or  Monday,  I  fancy,"  replied  Steger. 
"I  don't  know  what  move  Shannon  is  planning  to  make 
in  this  matter.  I  thought  I'd  walk  around  and  see  him 
in  a  little  while." 

"I  think  you'd  better  do  that,"  replied  Cowperwood 

636 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

"Friday  or  Monday  will  suit  me,  either  way.  I'm  really 
not  particular.  Better  make  it  Monday  if  you  can. 
You  don't  suppose  there  is  any  way  you  can  induce  Jas 
pers  to  keep  his  hands  off  until  then?  He  knows  I'm 
perfectly  responsible." 

"I  don't  know,  Frank,  I'm  sure;  I'll  see.  I'll  go  round 
and  talk  to  him  to-night.  Perhaps  a  hundred  dollars 
will  make  him  relax  the  rigor  of  his  rules  that  much." 

Cowperwood  smiled  grimly. 

"I  fancy  a  hundred  dollars  would  make  Jaspers  relax 
a  whole  lot  of  rules,"  he  replied,  and  he  got  up  to  go. 

Steger  arose  also.  "I'll  see  both  these  people,  and  then 
I'll  call  round  at  your  house.  You'll  be  in,  will  you, 
after  dinner?" 

"Yes." 

They  slipped  on  their  overcoats  and  went  out  into 
the  cold  February  day,  Cowperwood  back  to  his  Third 
Street  office,  Steger  to  see  Shannon  and  Jaspers. 


CHAPTER  LXII 

THE  business  of  arranging  Cowperwood's  sentence  for 
Monday  was  soon  disposed  *of  through  Shannon,  who 
had  no  personal  objection  to  any  reasonable  delay. 

"That's  all  right,  Mr.  Steger,"  he  observed,  most 
cordially,  after  the  proposition  had  been  put  to  him. 
"  No  opposition  on  my  part,  not  in  the  least.  I  want  to 
congratulate  you  on  the  way  you  conducted  your  case. 
I  thought  you'd  win,  to  tell  you  the  truth.  If  public 
sentiment  weren't  as  strong  as  it  is  against  Cowperwood 
and  Stener,  I  think  you  would  have.  Anyhow,  you 
divided  the  Supreme  Court.  That's  something.  I  have 
no  hard  feelings  if  you  haven't." 

Steger  smiled  cordially.  "  Certainly  not,"  he  said. 
He  shook  hands  and  then  went  away,  not  bearing  any 
resentment  in  the  least. 

He  next  visited  the  county  jail,  close  on  to  five  o'clock, 
when  it  was  already  dark.  Sheriff  Jaspers  was  pleased 
to  see  him.  He  came  lolling  out  from  his  private  library, 
where  he  had  been  engaged  upon  the  noble  work  of  clean 
ing  his  pipe. 

"How  are  you,  Mr.  Steger?"  he  observed,  smiling 
blandly.  "How  are  you?  Glad  to  see  you.  Won't  you 
sit  down?  I  suppose  you're  round  here  again  on  that 
Cowperwood  matter.  I  just  received  word  from  the 
district  attorney  that  he  had  lost  his  case." 

"That's  it,  Sheriff,"  replied  Steger,  ingratiatingly. 
"He  just  asked  me  to  step  around  and  see  what  you 
wanted  him  to  do  in  the  matter.  Judge  Payderson  has 
just  fixed  the  sentence  time  for  Monday  morning  at  ten 
o'clock.  I  don't  suppose  you'll  be  much  put  out  if  he 

638 


THE    FI  NANCI  ER 

doesn't  show  up  here  before  Monday  at  eight  o'clock, 
will  you,  or  Sunday  night,  anyhow?  He's  perfectly  re 
liable,  as  you  know."  Steger  was  sounding  Jaspers  out, 
politely  trying  to  make  the  time  of  Cowperwood's  arrival 
a  trivial  matter  in  order  to  avoid  paying  the  hundred 
dollars,  if  possible.  But  Jaspers  was  not  to  be  so  easily 
disposed  of.  His  fat  face  lengthened  considerably. 
How  could  Steger  ask  him  such  a  favor  and  not  even  sug 
gest  the  slightest  form  of  remuneration? 

1  'It's  ag'in'  the  law,  Mr.  Steger,  as  you  know,"  he 
began,  cautiously  and  complainingly.  "I'd  like  to  ac 
commodate  him,  everything  else  being  equal,  but  since 
that  Albertson  case  three  years  ago  we've  had  to  run  this 
office  much  more  careful,  and— 

"Oh,  I  know,  Sheriff,"  interrupted  Steger,  blandly, 
"but  this  isn't  an  ordinary  case  in  any  way,  as  you  can 
see  for  yourself.  Mr.  Cowperwood  is  a  very  important 
man,  and  he  has  a  great  many  things  to  attend  to.  Now 
if  it  were  only  a  mere  matter  of  seventy-five  or  a  hundred 
dollars  to  satisfy  some  court  clerk  with,  or  to  pay  a 
fine,  it  would  be  easy  enough,  but- —  He  paused  and 
looked  wisely  away,  and  Mr.  Jaspers's  face  began  to  relax 
at  once.  The  law  against  which  it  was  ordinarily  so  hard 
to  offend  was  not  now  so  important.  Steger  saw  that  it 
was  needless  to  introduce  any  additional  arguments. 

"It's  a  very  ticklish  business,  this,  Mr.  Steger,"  put 
in  the  sheriff,  complainingly,  but  yieldingly.  "If  any 
thing  were  to  happen,  it  would  cost  me  my  place  prac 
tically.  I  don't  like  to  do  it  under  any  circumstances, 
and  I  wouldn't,  only  I  happen  to  know  both  Mr.  Cowper 
wood  and  Mr.  Stener,  and  I  like  'em  both.  I  don't  think 
they  got  their  rights  in  this  matter,  either.  I  don't  mind 
making  an  exception  in  this  case  if  Mr.  Cowperwood 
don't  go  about  too  publicly.  I  wouldn't  want  any  of 
the  men  in  the  district  attorney's  office  to  know  this. 
I  don't  suppose  he'll  mind  if  I  keep  a  deputy  somewhere 
near  all  the  time  for  looks'  sake.  I  have  to,  you  know, 

639 


THE    FINANCIER 

really,  under  the  law.  He  won't  bother  him  any.  Just 
keep  on  guard  like.  Then  if  anything  should  happen 
I  can  say,  '  Well,  I  was  just  lettin'  him  out  for  a  half -hour 
or  so  on  somethin'  very  special.'  '  Mr.  Jaspers  looked 
at  Mr.  Steger  very  flatly  and  wisely — almost  placatingly 
under  the  circumstances — and  Mr.  Steger  nodded. 

"Quite  right,  Sheriff,  quite  right.  You're  quite  right," 
and  he  drew  out  his  purse  while  the  sheriff  led  the  way 
very  cautiously  back  into  his  library. 

"I'd  like  to  show  you  the  line  of  law-books  I'm  fixing 
up  for  myself  in  here,  Mr.  Steger,"  he  observed,  genially, 
but  meanwhile  closing  his  fingers  gently  on  the  small 
roll  of  ten-dollar  bills  Mr.  Steger  was  handing  him. 
"We  have  occasional  use  for  books  of  that  kind  here,  as 
you  see.  I  thought  it  a  good  sort  of  thing  to  have  them 
around."  He  waved  one  arm  comprehensively  at  the 
line  of  State  reports,  revised  statutes,  prison  regulations, 
etc.,  and  Steger  pretended  to  look. 

"Quite  so,  Sheriff,  quite  so.  A  good  idea,  I  think. 
Very  good,  indeed.  So  you  think  if  Mr.  Cowperwood  gets 
around  here  very  early  Monday  morning,  say  eight  or 
eight-thirty,  that  it  will  be  all  right?" 

"I  think  so,"  replied  the  sheriff,  curiously  nervous,  but 
agreeable,  anxious  to  please.  "I  don't  think  that  any 
thing  will  come  up  that  will  make  me  want  him  earlier. 
If  it  does  I'll  let  you  know,  and  you  can  produce  him. 
I  don't  think  so,  though,  Mr.  Steger;  I  think  everything 
will  be  all  right."  They  were  once  more  in  the  main 
hall  now.  "Glad  to  have  seen  you  again,  Mr.  Steger — 
very  glad,"  he  added.  "Call  again  some  day." 

Steger  went  to  the  outer  door,  where  a  turnkey  stood 
on  guard,  and  waved  the  sheriff  a  pleasant,  albeit  solemn, 
farewell.  Then  he  hurried  on  his  way  to  Cowperwood's 
house. 

When  Cowperwood  came  home  from  his  office  in  the 
evening,  after  having  been  notified  by  Steger  of  the  loss 
of  his  appeal,  he  decided  to  make  the  announcement  in  an 

640 


THE    FINANCIER 

offhand  way  in  order  to  forf end  against  any  show  of  feeling 
on  anybody's  part  later  in  case  he  might  have  to  go 
quickly.  He  did  not  know  how  soon  he  might  have  to 
leave — Steger's  errand  might  not  be  successful,  and,  any 
how,  he  might  have  to  be  sentenced  the  first  thing  Friday 
morning.  This  might  be  his  last  night  here.  The  sheriff 
might  not  be  willing  for  him  to  remain  out  of  his  custody 
even  one  night.  You  would  not  have  thought,  seeing 
Cowperwood  mount  the  front  steps  of  his  handsome  resi 
dence  in  his  neat  gray  suit  and  well-cut  overcoat,  that  he 
was  thinking  that  this  might  be  his  last  night  here  and 
that  henceforth  he  might  not  even  come  to  this  charming 
spot  any  more.  His  air  and  walk  indicated  no  weakening 
of  spirit.  He  entered  the  hall,  where  an  early  lamp  was 
aglow,  and  encountered  "Wash"  Sims,  an  old  negro 
factotum,  who  was  just  coming  up  from  the  basement, 
carrying  a  bucket  of  coal  for  one  of  the  fire-places. 

"Mahty  cold  out,  dis  evenin',  Mistah  Coppahwood," 
said  Wash,  to  whom  anything  less  than  sixty  degrees 
was  very  cold.  His  one  regret  was  that  Philadelphia 
was  not  located  in  North  Carolina,  where  he  came  from. 
'Tis  sharp,  Wash,"  replied  Cowperwood,  absent- 
mindedly.  He  was  thinking  for  the  moment  of  the  house 
and  how  it  had  looked,  as  he  came  toward  it  west  along 
Girard  Avenue.  What  the  neighbors  were  thinking  of 
him,  too,  these  days,  was  also  in  his  mind.  He  fancied 
they  were  observing  him  from  time  to  time  out  of  their 
windows.  It  was  clear  and  cold.  The  lamps  in  the  re 
ception-hall  and  sitting-room  had  been  lit,  for  he  had  per 
mitted  no  air  of  funereal  gloom  to  settle  down  over  this 
place  since  his  troubles  had  begun.  In  the  far  west  of 
the  street  a  last  tingeing  gleam  of  lavender  and  violet  was 
showing  over  the  cold  white  snow  of  the  roadway.  The 
house  of  gray-green  stone,  with  its  lighted  windows,  and 
cream-colored  lace  curtains,  had  looked  especially  at 
tractive.  He  had  thought  for  the  moment  of  the  pride 
he  had  taken  in  putting  all  this  here,  decorating  and  orna- 

641 


THE    FINANCIER 

menting  it,  and  whether,  ever,  he  could  secure  it  for 
himself  again.  "Where  is  your  mistress?"  he  added  to 
Wash,  when  he  bethought  himself. 

"In  the  sitting-room,  Mr.  Coppahwood,  ah  think." 

Cowperwood  ascended  the  stair,  thinking  curiously 
that  Wash  would  soon  be  out  of  a  job  now,  unless  Mrs. 
Cowperwood,  out  of  all  the  wreck  of  other  things,  chose 
to  retain  him,  which  was  not  likely.  He  entered  the 
sitting-room,  and  there  sat  his  wife  by  the  oblong  center- 
table,  sewing  a  hook  and  eye  into  one  of  Lillian,  second's, 
petticoats.  She  looked  up,  at  his  step,  with  the  peculiarly 
uncertain  smile  she  used  these  days — indication  of  her 
pain,  fear,  suspicions,  and  so  on — and  inquired,  "Well, 
what  is  new  with  you,  Frank?"  Her  smile  was  something 
like  a  hat  or  belt  or  ornament  of  one  kind  or  another  which 
one  puts  on  or  off  at  will. 

"Nothing  in  particular,"  he  replied,  in  his  offhand  way, 
"except  that  I  understand  I  have  lost  that  appeal  of  mine. 
Steger  is  coming  here  in  a  little  while  to  let  me  know. 
I  had  a  note  from  him,  and  I  fancy  it's  about  that." 

He  did  not  care  to  say  squarely  that  he  had  lost. 
He  knew  that  she  was  sufficiently  distressed  as  it  was, 
and  he  did  not  care  to  be  too  rough  just  now.  He  was 
thinking  of  the  penitentiary  and  what  it  would  be  like — 
whether  Steger  could  get  him  any  special  privileges  there. 
He  had  heard  that  the  rules  of  the  Eastern  Penitentiary, 
where  he  was  destined  to  go,  were  ordinarily  very  strict, 
though  Steger  had  assured  him,  and  he  knew  himself, 
that  the  terrors  of  most  prisons  were  worse  in  the  minds 
of  inexperienced  sentimentalists  than  they  were  in  fact. 
Still,  no  doubt  whatever,  they  were  bad  enough. 

"You  don't  say!"  replied  Lillian,  with  surprise  and 
fright  in  her  voice,  and  getting  up. 

She  had  been  so  used  to  a  world  where  prisons  were 
scarcely  thought  of,  where  things  went  on  smoothly  from 
day  to  day  without  any  noticeable  intrusion  of  such  dis 
tressing  things  as  courts,  jails,  and  the  like,  that  these 

642 


THE    FI  NANCI  ER 

last  few  months  had  driven  her  nearly  mad.  Cowperwood 
had  so  definitely  insisted  on  her  keeping  in  the  back 
ground — he  had  told  her  so  very  little  that  she  was  all  at 
sea  anyhow  in  regard  to  the  whole  procedure.  Nearly 
all  that  she  had  had  in  the  way  of  intelligence  had  been 
from  his  father  and  mother  and  Anna,  and  from  a  close 
and  almost  secret  scrutiny  of  the  newspapers. 

At  the  time  he  had  gone  to  the  county  jail  she  did  not 
even  know  anything  about  it  until  his  father  had  come 
back  from  the  court-room  and  the  jail  and  had  broken 
the  news  to  her.  It  had  been  a  terrific  blow  to  her.  Now 
to  have  this  thing  suddenly  broken  to  her  in  this  offhand 
way,  even  though  she  had  been  expecting  and  dreading 
it  hourly,  was  too  much. 

She  was  a  decidedly  charming-looking  woman  as  she 
stood  holding  her  daughter's  garment  in  her  hand,  even 
if  she  was  forty  years,  old  to  Cowperwood 's  thirty-five. 
She  was  robed  in  one  of  the  creations  of  their  late  pros 
perity,  a  cream-colored  gown  of  rich  silk,  with  dark- 
brown  trimmings — a  fetching  combination  for  her.  Her 
eyes  were  a  little  hollow,  and  reddish  about  the  rims, 
but  otherwise  she  gave  no  evidence  of  her  keen  mental 
distress.  There  was  considerable  evidence  of  the  former 
tranquil  sweetness  that  had  so  fascinated  him  ten  years 
before,  but  not  enough,  and  he  felt  sorry. 

"Isn't  that  terrible?"  she  said,  weakly,  her  hands  trem 
bling  in  a  nervous  way.  "Isn't  it  dreadful?  Isn't  there 
anything  you  can  do,  anything  more?  You  won't  really 
have  to  go  to  prison,  will  you?"  He  objected  to  her 
distress  and  her  nervous  fears.  He  preferred  a  stronger, 
more  self-reliant  type  of  woman,  but  still  she  was  his 
wife,  and  in  his  day  he  had  loved  her  much. 

"It  looks  that  way,  Lillian,"  he  said,  with  the  first 
note  of  real  sympathy  he  had  used  in  a  long  while.  He 
was  afraid  to  go  any  further  along  that  line,  however, 
for  fear  it  might  give  her  a  false  sense  as  to  his  present 
attitude,  which  was  more  of  sorrow  for  her  than  anything 

643 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

else.  She  was  not  so  dull  but  what  she  could  see  that 
the  consideration  in  his  voice  had  been  brought  about 
in  just  this  way.  The  other  factor  of  his  manner — his 
face  and  eyes — indicated  as  much.  Still  it  appealed  to 
her  as  a  touch  of  the -old  time.  She  wished  sincerely 
that  there  was  more  of  it. 

"I  don't  want  you  to  feel  distressed  about  me,  though," 
he  went  on,  before  she  could  say  anything  to  him.  "I'm 
not  through  with  my  fighting.  I'll  get  out  of  this.  I  have 
to  go  to  prison,  it  seems,  in  order  to  get  things  straight 
ened  out  properly.  What  I  would  like  you  to  do  is  to 
keep  up  a  cheerful  appearance  in  front  of  the  rest  of  the 
family — father  and  mother  particularly.  They  need  to 
be  cheered  up."  He  thought  once  of  taking  her  hand, 
then  decided  not.  She  noted  mentally  his  hesitation, 
the  great  difference  between  his  attitude  now  and  that  of 
ten  or  twelve  years  before.  It  did  not  hurt  her  now  as 
much  as  she  once  would  have  thought.  Then  he  was  so 
enthusiastic,  so  constantly  trespassing  on  her  time. 
Now,  when  he  was  going  to  prison — a  blow  sufficient  to 
have  broken  her  heart  a  few  years  before — he  was  telling 
her  of  it  at  long  range,  as  it  were.  She  looked  at  him, 
scarcely  knowing  what  to  say.  There  was  really  not 
so  much  to  say. 

"Will  you  have  to  go  'soon,  if  you  do  have  to  go?" 
she  ventured,  wearily. 

"I  can't  tell  yet.  Possibly  to-night.  Possibly  Friday. 
Possibly  not  until  Monday.  I'm  waiting  to  hear  from 
Steger.  I  expect  him  here  any  minute." 

He  turned  to  go  to  his  little  private  office,  where  a 
number  of  papers,  some  certificates  of  stock,  and  other 
things,  which  he  would  have  to  seal  up  and  turn  over  to 
Steger  for  safe  keeping,  were  kept. 

Mrs.  Cowperwood  stood  there  as  he  turned.  She  won 
dered  in  a  way  what  she  could  do.  "Is  there  anything 
I  can  get  for  you?"  she  asked,  starting  forward  as  if  out 
of  a  dream.  "Do  you  want  me  to  do  anything?  Don't 

644 


THE    FINANCIER 

you  think  perhaps  you  had  better  leave  Philadelphia, 
Frank?  You  needn't  go  to  prison  unless  you  want  to." 

She  was  a  little  beside  herself,  for  the  first  time  in  her 
life  shocked  out  of  a  deadly  calm;  and  she  was  not  making 
the  sanest  suggestions  for  him,  not  saying  the  things 
that  would  appeal  to  him  now. 

He  paused  and  looked  at  her  for  a  moment  in  his 
direct,  examining  way,  his  hard  commercial  business 
judgment  restored  on  the  instant. 

"That  would  be  a  confession  of  guilt,  Lillian,  and  I'm 
not  guilty,"  he  replied,  almost  coldly.  "I  haven't  done 
anything  that  warrants  my  running  away  or  going  to 
prison,  either.  I'm  merely  going  there  to  save  time  at 
present.  I  can't  be  litigating  this  thing  forever.  I'll 
get  out — be  pardoned  out  or  sued  out  in  a  reasonable 
length  of  time.  Just  now  it's  better  to  go,  I  think.  I 
wouldn't  think  of  running  away  from  Philadelphia. 
Two  of  five  judges  found  for  me  in  the  decision.  That's 
pretty  fair  evidence  that  the  State  has  no  case  against 
me." 

His  wife  saw  she  had  made  a  mistake.  It  clarified 
her  judgment  on  the  instant.  "I  didn't  mean  it  that 
way,  Frank,"  she  replied,  apologetically.  "You  know  I 
didn't.  Of  course  I  know  you're  not  guilty.  Why  should 
I  think  you  were,  of  all  people?" 

She  paused,  expecting  some  retort,  some  further  argu 
ment.  He  had  quietly  turned  to  his  desk  and  was  think 
ing  of  other  things. 

Suddenly  the  anomaly  of  her  own  state  came  over 
her  again.  Why  trespass  on  his  time?  she  asked  herself. 
Why  bother?  He  really  did  not  care  for  her  any  more — 
that  was  it.  Nothing  could  make  him,  nothing  could 
bring  them  together,  not  even  this  tragedy.  Why  explain  ? 
He  was  interested  in  another  woman — Aileen ;  and  so  her 
foolish  thoughts  and  explanations,  her  fear,  sorrow,  dis 
tress,  were  not  important  to  him.  He  could  take  her 
agonized  wish  for  his  freedom  as  a  comment  on  his  prob- 

645 


THE    FINANCIER 

able  guilt,  a  doubt  of  his  innocence,  a  criticism  of  him! 
She  turned  away  for  a  minute,  and  he  came  out  and  went 
into  another  room.  Then  he  came  out  of  that  and  crossed 
to  the  hall  again  on  his  way  to  the  other  house  to  see  his 
father. 

"I'll  be  back  again  in  a  few  moments,"  he  volunteered. 
"Are  the  children  here?" 

"Yes,  they're  up  in  the  play -room,"  she  answered, 
sadly,  utterly  nonplussed  and  distraught.  What  was  she 
to  do  in  a  situation  of  this  kind?  What  say? 

"Oh,  Frank!"  she  had  it  on  her  lips  to  cry,  but  before 
she  could  utter  it  he  had  bustled  down  the  steps  and  was 
gone.  She  turned  back  to  the  table,  her  left  hand  to 
her  mouth,  her  eyes  in  a  queer,  hazy,  melancholy  mist. 
Could  it  be,  she  thought,  that  life  could  really  come  to 
this — that  love  could  so  utterly,  so  thoroughly  die? 
Ten  years  before — but,  oh,  why  go  back  to  that?  Ob 
viously  it  could,  and  thoughts  concerning  that  would 
not  help  now.  Twice  now  in  her  life  her  affairs  had  seemed 
to  go  to  pieces — once  when  her  first  husband  had  died, 
and  now  when  her  second  had  failed  her,  had  fallen  in 
love  with  another  and  was  going  to  be  sent  off  to  prison. 
What  was  she  going  to  do?  Where  go?  She  had  no 
idea,  of  course,  for  how  long  a  term  of  years  he  would  be 
sent  away.  It  might  be  one  year  or  it  might  be  five 
years,  as  the  papers  had  said.  Good  heavens!  The 
children  could  almost  forget  him  in  five  years.  She 
put  her  other  hand  to  her  mouth  also,  and  then  to  her 
forehead,  where  there  was  a  dull  ache.  She  tried  to 
think  further  than  this,  but  somehow,  just  now,  there 
was  no  further  thought.  Suddenly  quite  outside  of  her 
own  volition,  with  no  thought  that  she  was  going  to 
do  such  a  thing,  her  bosom  began  to  heave,  her  throat 
contracted  in  four  or  five  short,  sharp,  aching  spasms, 
her  eyes  burned,  and  she  shook  in  a  vigorous,  anguished, 
desperate,  almost  one  might  have  said  dry-eyed  cry,  so 
hot  and  few  were  the  tears.  She  could  not  stop  for  the 

646 


THE    FINANCIER 

moment,  just  stood  there  and  shook,  and  then  after  a 
while  a  dull  ache  succeeded,  and  she  was  quite  as  she 
had  been  before. 

"Why  cry?"  she  suddenly  asked  herself,  fiercely— 
for  her.  "Why  break  down  in  this  stormy,  useless  way? 
Would  it  help?" 

But,  in  spite  of  her  speculative,  philosophic  observa 
tions  to  herself,  she  still  felt  the  echo,  the  distant  rumble, 
as  it  were,  of  the  storm  in  her  own  soul.  "Why  cry? 
Why  not  cry?"  She  might  say  she  wouldn't,  but,  in 
spite  of  herself  and  all  her  logic,  she  knew  that  this 
tempest  which  had  so  recently  raged  over  her  was  now 
merely  circling  round  her  soul's  horizon  and  would  return 
to  break  again. 


CHAPTER   LXIII 

THE  arrival  of  Steger  with  the  information  that  no 
move  of  any  kind  would  be  made  by  the  sheriff 
until  Monday  morning,  when  Cowperwood  could  present 
himself,  eased  matters.  The  forceful  banker  had  time  to 
think — to  adjust  home  details  at  his  leisure.  He  broke 
the  news  to  his  father  and  mother  in  a  consoling  way 
and  talked  with  his  brothers  and  father  about  getting 
matters  immediately  adjusted  in  connection  with  the 
smaller  houses  to  which  they  were  now  shortly  to  be 
compelled  to  move.  There  was  much  conferring  among 
the  different  members  of  this  collapsing  organization  in 
regard  to  the  minor  details;  and  what  with  his  confer 
ences  with  Steger,  his  seeing  personally  Davison,  Leigh, 
Avery  Stone,  of  Jay  Cooke  &  Co.,  George  Waterman 
(his  old-time  employer  Henry  was  dead),  ex-State  Treas 
urer  Van  Nostrand,  who  had  gone  out  with  the  last  State 
administration,  and  others,  he  was  very  busy,  and  the 
time  passed.  Cowperwood,  now  that  he  was  really  going 
into  prison,  wanted  his  financial  friends  to  get  together  and 
see  if  they  could  get  him  out  by  appealing  to  the  governor. 
The  division  of  opinion  among  the  judges  of  the  State 
Supreme  Court  was  his  excuse  and  strong  point.  He 
wanted  Steger  to  follow  this  up  after  he  should  be  gone, 
and  he  spared  no  pains  in  trying  to  see  all  and  sundry 
who  might  be  of  use  to  him — Edward  Tighe,  of  Tighe  & 
Co.,  who  was  still  in  business  in  Third  Street;  Newton 
Targool;  Arthur  Rivers;  Joseph  Zimmerman,  the  dry- 
goods  prince,  now  a  millionaire ;  Judge  Kitchen ;  Terrence 
Relihan,  the  former  representative  of  the  money  element 
at  Harrisburg;  and  many  others. 

648 


THE    FINANCIER 

Cowperwood  wanted  Relihan  to  approach  the  news 
papers  and  see  if  he  could  not  readjust  their  attitude  so 
as  to  work  to  get  him  out,  and  he  wanted  Walter  Leigh 
to  head  the  movement  of  getting  up  a  signed  petition 
which  should  contain  all  the  important  names  of  money 
people  and  others,  asking  the  governor  to  release  him. 
Leigh  agreed  to  this  heartily,  as  did  Relihan  speaking 
for  his  work  in  connection  with  the  newspapers. 

"I'll  do  everything  I  can,  Frank,"  Leigh  assured  him, 
heartily;  and  as  for  Relihan,  he  simply  said,  "You  may 
depend  on  me,  Mr.  Cowperwood,"  and  he  meant  it. 
R-elihan  informed  Cowperwood  now,  as  had  others  before, 
that  he  knew  that  the  local  political  poohbahs,  Mollen- 
hauer,  Simpson,  and  Butler,  were  against  him — that  they 
had  been  anxious  all  along  to  see  him  convicted,  and  for 
what  reason  he,  Relihan,  could  not  quite  make  out,  unless 
it  was  to  break  up  his  local  street-railway  activity.  Reli 
han  had  heard  of  Cowperwood's  relation  to  Aileen  Butler, 
but  he  did  not  care  to  speak  about  it. 

"And  I  can't  see  why,  either,"  was  his  comment, 
"unless  it's  because  you  were  getting  too  deep  in  the 
street-car  game  here." 

Cowperwood  lifted  his  eyes.  "That's  one  good  reason, 
anyhow,  isn't  it?"  he  replied. 

Aileen  had  one  .  last  opportunity  of  seeing  her  lover 
outside  the  prison  walls.  They  met  on  Saturday  before 
the  Monday  of  his  sentence,  and  there  was  enacted  one  of 
those  peculiar  scenes — peculiar  to  the  privileged  classes — 
which  money  and  mental  resourcefulness  guarantee  as 
both  possible  and  socially  safe.  Cowperwood  had  not 
come  in  contact  with  her  since  the  decision  of  the  Supreme 
Court  had  been  rendered,  but  he  had  had  a  letter  at 
a  private  mail-box,  and  had  made  an  appointment  for 
Saturday  at  a  small  hotel  in  Camden,  which,  being  across 
the  river,  was  safer,  in  his  judgment,  than  anything  in 
Philadelphia.  He  was  a  little  uncertain  as  to  how  Aileen 
would  take  the  possibility  of  not  seeing  him  soon  again 

649 


THE    FINANCIER 

after  Monday,  and  how  she  would  act  generally  once  he 
was  where  she  could  not  confer  with  him  as  often  as  she 
chose.  He  was  very  anxious  to  talk  to  her  on  many 
counts,  not  the  least  of  which  was  that  of  his  love,  and 
his  sorrow  at  being  compelled  to  part  with  her  in  this  way. 

Aileen,  who  through  all  this  long  period  of  disaster  had 
been  repeating  her  assurances  of  faith  and  affection,  was 
no  less  emphatic  in  her  protestations  than  she  had  ever 
been;  in  fact,  was  much  more  so.  She  went  at  her  beloved 
in  that  direct,  forceful  way  which  only  she  could  attempt 
with  him,  a  sort  of  mannish  impetuosity  which  he  both 
enjoyed  and  admired,  and  slipping  her  arms  around  his 
neck,  said:  "  Honey,  you  needn't  tell  me.  I  saw  it  in  the 
papers  the  other  morning.  Don't  you  mind,  honey.  I  love 
you.  I'll  wait  for  you.  I'll  be  with  you  yet,  if  it  takes 
a  dozen  years  of  waiting.  It  doesn't  make  any  difference 
to  me  if  it  takes  a  hundred,  only  I'm  so  sorry  for  you, 
sweetheart.  I'll  be  with  you  every  day  through  this, 
darling,  loving  you  with  all  my  might.  Oh,  my  lovely 
Frank,  my  boy!" 

She  caressed  his  solid  head  while  he  looked  at  her  in 
that  quiet  way  which  betokened  at  once  his  self-poise 
and  yet  his  interest  and  satisfaction  in  her.  He  couldn't 
help  loving  Aileen,  he  thought.  He  couldn't  help  admiring 
her  tremendously,  now  more  than  ever,  because  literally, 
in  spite  of  all  his  intellectual  strength,  he  really  could 
not  rule  her.  She  went  at  him,  even  when  he  stood  off 
in  a  calm,  critical  way,  as  if  he  were  her  special  property, 
her  toy.  She  would  talk  to  him  always,  and  particularly 
when  she  was  excited,  as  if  he  were  just  a  baby,  her  pet; 
and  sometimes  he  felt  as  though  she  would  really  over 
come  him  mentally,  make  him  subservient  to  her,  she  was 
so  individual,  so  sure  of  her  importance  as  a  woman. 

Now  on  this  occasion  she  went  babbling  on  as  if  he 
were  broken-hearted,  in  need  of  her  greatest  care  and 
tenderness,  although  he  really  wasn't  at  all;  and  for 
the  moment  she  actually  made  him  feel  as  though  he  was. 

650 


THE    FINANCIER 

"It  isn't  as  bad  as  that,  Aileen,"  he  ventured  to  say, 
eventually;  but  she  went  on  forcefully,  paying  no  heed 
to  him. 

"Oh  yes,  it  is,  too,  honey.  I  know.  Oh,  my  poor 
Frank!  But  I'll  see  you.  I  know  how  to  manage,  what 
ever  happens.  How  often  do  they  let  visitors  come  out 
to  see  the  prisoners  there?" 

She  had  seen  in  the  papers  the  name  of  the  institution 
to  which  he  would  probably  have  to  go. 

"Only  once  in  three  months,  pet,  so  they  say,  but  I 
think  we  can  fix  that  after  I  get  there ;  only  do  you  think 
you  had  better  try  to  come?  Aren't  you  in  danger  of 
stirring  up  your  father?  He  might  cause  a  lot  of  trouble 
out  there  if  he  were  so  minded." 

"Only  once  in  three  months!"  she  exclaimed,  with 
rising  emphasis,  as  he  began  this  explanation.  "Oh, 
Frank,  no!  Surely  not!  Once  in  three  months!  Oh,  I 
won't  do  it!  Oh,  I  can't  stand  that!  I  won't!  I'll  go 
and  see  the  warden  myself.  He'll  let  me  see  you.  I'm 
sure  he  will,  if  I  talk  to  him." 

"Stop  a  minute,  Aileen,"  said  Cowperwood,  firmly, 
while  he  drew  her  to  a  chair  and  pulled  her  down  on  his 
lap.  He  was  thinking,  in  spite  of  all  his  other  calcula 
tions,  how  charming  she  was  looking  to-day.  How  young 
she  kept,  and  how  forceful !  While  he  was  nearing  his  full 
maturity  she  was  a  comparatively  young  girl,  and  as 
beautiful  as  ever.  She  was  wearing  a  black-and-white- 
striped  silk  in  the  curious  bustle  style  of  the  times,  and 
a  set  of  sealskin  furs,  including  a  little  sealskin  cap  on 
top  of  her  jaunty  red-gold  head. 

"You're  not  thinking  what  you're  saying,  Aileen," 
he  continued.  "You're  not  thinking.  Remember  your 
father !  Remember  your  family !  Your  father  may  know 
the  warden  out  there.  You  don't  want  it  to  get  all  over 
town  that  you're  running  out  there  to  see  me.  Your 
father  will  cause  you  trouble.  You  don't  know  the  small 
party  politicians  as  I  do.  They  gossip  like  a  lot  of  old 

651 " 


THE    FINANCIER 

women.  You'll  have  to  be  very  careful  what  you  do 
and  how  you  do  it.  I  don't  want  to  lose  you.  I  want  to 
see  you.  But  you'll  have  to  mind  what  you're  doing. 
Don't  try  to  see  me  at  once.  I  want  you  to,  but  I  want 
to  find  out  how  the  land  lies,  and  I  want  you  to  find  out 
too.  You  won't  lose  me.  I'll  be  there,  well  enough." 

He  paused  as  he  thought  of  the  long  tier  of  iron  cells 
which  must  be  there,  one  of  which  would  be  his — for  how 
long? — and  of  Aileen  seeing  him  through  the  door  of  it 
or  in  it. 

"I  know,  I  know,"  replied  Aileen,  firmly.  "But  think 
of  three  months!  Honey,  I  can't!  I  won't!  It's  non 
sense.  Three  months!  I  know  that  my  father  wouldn't 
have  to  wait  any  three  months  if  he  wanted  to  see  any 
body  out  there,  nor  anybody  else  that  he  wanted  to  ask 
favors  for.  And  I  won't,  either.  I'll  find  some  way." 
j  Cowperwood  had  to  smile.  You  could  not  defeat  Aileen 
so  easily. 

"But  you're  not  your  father,  honey;  and  you  don't 
want  him  to  know." 

"I  know  I  don't,  but  they  don't  need  to  know  who  I 
am.  I  can  go  heavily  veiled.  I  don't  think  that  the 
warden  knows  my  father.  He  may.  Anyhow,  he  doesn't 
know  me;  and  he  wouldn't  tell  on  me  if  he  did — if  I  talked 
to  him.  He'd  help  me,  not  hurt  me." 

Her  confidence  in  her  charms,  her  personality,  her 
earthly  privileges  was  quite  anarchistic.  Cowperwood 
shook  his  head. 

"Honey,  you're  about  the  best  and  the  worst  there  is 
when  it  comes  to  a  woman,"  he  observed,  affectionately, 
pulling  her  lips  down  to  his,  "but  you'll  have  to  listen 
to  me  just  the  same.  I  have  a  lawyer,  Steger — you 
know  him.  He's  going  to  take  up  this  matter  with  the 
warden  out  there — is  doing  it  to-day.  He  may  be  able  to 
fix  things,  and  he  may  not.  I'll  know  to-morrow  or  Sun 
day,  and  I'll  write  you.  But  don't  go  and  do  anything 
rash  until  you  hear.  I'm  sure  I  can  cut  that  visiting  limit 

652 


THE    FINANCIER 

in  half,  and  perhaps  down  to  once  a  month  or  once  in 
two  weeks  even.  I'm  not  sure.  They  only  allow  me  to 
write  one  letter  in  three  months" — Aileen  exploded  again 
— "and  I'm  sure  I  can  have  that  made  different — some; 
but  don't  write  me  until  you  hear,  or  at  least  don't  sign 
any  name  or  put  any  address  in.  They  open  all  mail 
and  read  it.  If  you  see  me  or  write  me  you'll  have  to 
be  cautious,  and  you're  not  the  most  cautious  person  in 
the  world.  Now  be  good,  will  you?" 

They  talked  much  more — of  his  family,  his  court  ap 
pearance  Monday,  whether  he  would  get  out  soon  to  at 
tend  any  of  the  suits  still  pending,  or  be  pardoned.  Aileen 
was  enraged  at  her  father  for  his  part  in  the  local  po 
litical  attitude  toward  Cowperwood  and  anxious  to  see 
the  latter  come  out  and  triumph  again.  She  believed 
in  his  future  still.  She  had  read  the  opinions  of  the  dis 
senting  judges  in  his  favor,  and  that  of  the  three  agreed 
judges  against  him.  She  was  sure  his  day  was  not  over 
in  Philadelphia,  and  that  he  would  some  time  re-establish 
himself  and  then  take  her  with  him  somewhere  else.  She 
was  sorry  for  Mrs.  Cowperwood,  but  she  was  convinced 
that  she  was  not  suited  to  him — that  Frank  needed  some 
one  more  like  herself,  some  one  with  youth  and  beauty  and 
force — her,  no  less.  She  clung  to  him  now  in  ecstatic  em 
braces  until  it  was  time  to  go.  So  far  as  a  plan  of  procedure 
could  have  been  adjusted  in  a  situation  so  incapable  of 
accurate  adjustment,  it  had  been  done.  She  was  desper 
ately  downcast  at  the  last  moment,  as  was  he,  over  their 
parting;  but  she  pulled  herself  together  with  her  usual 
force  and  faced  the  dark  future  with  a  steady  eye. 


CHAPTER   LXIV 

THE  matter  of  sentencing  Cowperwood  was  carried 
out  with  that  due  regard  for  the  forms  of  so-called 
justice  which  make  the  final  disposition  of  any  individual 
case  always  interesting  as  a  spectacle.  In  spite  of  Stener's 
decision  not  to  stand  trial  at  the  time  that  Cowperwood 
was  being  tried,  when  it  came  to  the  actual  matter  of 
pleading  guilty  he  had  changed  his  mind,  as  has  been 
said,  and  on  the  advice  of  friends  pleaded  not  guilty, 
standing  trial  rather  than  bear  the  odium  of  acknowl 
edged  guilt.  Judge  Payderson,  for  a  romantic  legal  reason 
of  his  own,  and  because  Stener's  change  of  heart  had 
thrown  his  trial  over  into  the  January  term  of  court,  had 
decided  to  sentence  both  Cowperwood  and  him  at  the 
same  time.  He  had  readily  granted  a  stay  of  sentence  in 
Stener's  case  because  he  wanted  to  see  how  Cowper- 
wood's  appeal  eventuated.  When  that  failed,  he  ordered 
both  men  brought  before  him  at  the  same  time,  propos 
ing  to  make  a  fine  moral  example  of  their  conviction. 
He  had  even  framed  up  the  language  in  which  he  would 
set  forth  their  error  to  them  separately,  and  he  had  both 
speeches  committed  to  memory  at  the  time  they  were 
finally  brought  before  him. 

The  process  of  bringing  them  there  was  interesting 
enough,  as  things  legal  go.  Once  the  decision  of  the 
Supreme  Court  was  reached,  it  was  entered  on  the 
court  records  at  the  court  itself  and  a  notice  mailed 
to  the  district  attorney  of  the  district  in  which  the 
appellant  had  been  tried.  He  in  turn  notified  the  court 
before  whom  the  case  had  been  tried,  and  the  latter  then 
fixed  a  day  for  sentence  and  ordered  the  prisoner  to  be 

654 


THE    FINANCIER 

brought  before  him.  It  was  the  business  of  the  sheriff, 
once  he  was  notified  of  the  defeat  of  an  appeal,  to  see 
that  the  individual  whom  it  concerned  was  promptly 
brought  into  his  care.  Cowperwood,  through  Steger  and 
Jaspers,  as  we  have  seen,  was  illegally  freed  from  being 
asked  to  come  to  the  county  jail  and  surrender  himself. 
Payderson  having  fixed  Monday,  the  sixteenth,  at  ten 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  for  both  Cowperwood's  and 
Stener's  sentence,  the  former  was  asked  by  Sheriff  Jaspers 
to  present  himself  at  the  jail  at  eight  o'clock,  in  order  that 
there  might  be  ample  time  for  all  possible  contingencies. 
There  were  papers  to  be  filled  out  and  signed  and  other 
formalities  to  be  complied  with.  In  ordinary  cases  there 
was  a  wagon  which  went  around  to  the  different  courts 
from  the  jail  carrying  prisoners  then  on  trial  or  subject  to 
sentence,  and  taking  them  away  again;  and  this  would 
have  carried  Cowperwood,  except  that  for  the  price  he  had 
paid  he  was  able  to  make  a  different  arrangement — that  is, 
walk  with  a  deputy.  There  was  a  little  antechamber  con 
nected  with  every  court  where  prisoners  were  detained 
under  surveillance  and  produced  or  returned  to  jail  or 
discharged  as  ordered  by  the  court,  and  it  was  to  the 
most  available  entrances  to  these  that  the  jail- wagon 
ran  or  the  prisoner  was  taken.  In  connection  with  the 
Criminal  Court,  Part  I,  where  Cowperwood  had  been  tried 
and  where  he  was  to  be  sentenced,  there  was  such  an 
anteroom,  as  we  have  seen,  and  it  was  here  that  he  was  to 
be  conducted  this  Monday  morning.  In  the  court-room 
there  was  a  large  aisle,  the  same  which  led  to  the  jury- 
room  in  which  he  was  first  convicted,  where,  the  first  thing 
in  the  morning,  after  the  court  had  got  through  listening 
to  pleas  for  dismissals,  motions  for  new  trials,  pleas  for 
delays,  etc. — the  general  business  of  arranging  the  day's 
docket — the  prisoners  who  were  to  hear  their  fate  on  this 
day  were  brought  forth.  They  were  lined  up  by  bailiffs  in 
a  long  row,  if  there  were  many,  against  the  wall  in  this 
aisle;  and  as  each  prisoner's  name  was  called  he  stepped 

655 


THE    FINANCIER 

forward  to  his  proper  position  in  front  of  the  court-rail 
gate  where  the  judge  could  see  and  hear  him.  Then  the 
final  pleas  of  the  lawyers  for  clemency,  the  letters  of 
friends  and  relatives,  the  prisoner's  own  statement,  and 
anything  else  that  might  be  either  for  or  against  him 
were  considered,  and  the  sentence  administered  accord 
ingly.  It  might  have  been  supposed  that  in  a  case  of 
such  importance  as  Stener's  and  Cowperwood's,  the  two 
men  being  fairly  prominent,  they  would  have  been 
brought  in  in  some  unobtrusive  way  and  sentenced; 
but  such  was  not  the  case  here.  Judge  Payderson  was  a 
stickler  for  form  and  order  in  his  court,  never  giving 
way  except  to  notable  political  influence,  which  was 
conspicuously  lacking  in  Cowperwood's  case.  So  he  and 
Stener  had  to  accept  the  rather  disagreeable  arrangement 
of  being  brought  in  with  decidedly  ordinary  criminals  and 
lined  up  on  the  side  wall  in  the  aisle,  which  was  a  thing 
neither  of  them  ever  forgot  afterward. 

When  they  reached  the  court  the  same  little  pen  in 
which  Cowperwood  had  awaited  the  verdict  of  his  jury 
several  months  before  was  waiting  to  receive  them,  or 
him.  Owing  to  a  lively  sense  of  possible  favors  to  come, 
Eddie  Zanders  was  not  insistent  on  Cowperwood's  en 
tering  at  once,  knowing  well  how  offensive  the  pen  was 
to  him. 

"We  can  sit  outside  here,"  he  observed,  "or  walk 
around.  We  got  a  half-hour  yet  before  we  need  to  go  in 
there." 

Because  it  was  cold — still  snow  on  the  ground — it  then 
occurred  to  him  that  they  might  visit  a  near-by  saloon 
which  was  visible  from  where  they  stood.  It  was  a 
thought  quite  inappropriate  to  Cowperwood's  father,  and 
to  Cowperwood  himself  in  a  way,  though  he  did  not  so 
much  mind,  but  Zanders  could  not  be  expected  to  see  this. 
His  standards  were  of  the  jail  and  the  average  court 
hanger-on.  "It's  warm  over  there,"  he  volunteered, 
genially,  "and  you  can  get  something  to  drink  if  you 

656 


THE    FI  NANC1  ER 

want."  Then,  bethinking  him  that  he  was  in  the  presence 
of  perhaps  a  rather  conservative  company  so  far  as 
liquor  was  concerned,  he  added:  "I  don't  know  whether 
you  gentlemen  ever  take  anything.  Maybe  you  don't." 

Cowperwood,  senior,  was  very  much  opposed  to  saloons 
in  general.  To  him  they  were  the  curse  of  God,  the 
visible  evidence  of  a  personal  devil,  operating  on  this 
earth.  He  himself  never  took  anything  stronger  than 
water;  though  these  many  years,  for  custom's  sake  and 
owing  to  the  degenerate  habits  of  that  superior  world 
into  which,  by  degrees,  he  had  been  rising,  he  had  allowed 
wine  to  be  served  on  his  table.  A  noted  brand  of  French 
wine  in  a  dusty  bottle  over  which  other  bankers  and  men 
of  importance  smacked  their  lips  and  pretended  or 
evinced  a  real  interest  was  one  thing;  a  saloon  filled  with 
commonplace  sots  and  brawlers,  as  he  fancied  them  to  be 
—he  had  never  been  inside  one  in  his  life — was  another 
matter.  On  this  occasion,  therefore,  this  suggestion  hurt 
him  no  little,  because  he  was  not  sure  that  his  several  sons 
might  not  want  to  go.  Cowperwood  had  to  smile,  for  he 
knew  his  father's  attitude.  He  had  no  objection  to 
saloons  good,  bad,  or  indifferent,  if  there  were  any  object 
in  his  going  into  them.  He  drank  nothing  stronger  than 
water,  except  good  wine  on  occasion,  though  he  was 
perfectly  willing  that  6thers  should,  and  bought  liberally 
for  those  who  did.  Joseph  and  Edward  had  been  drink 
ing  at  bars  occasionally,  for  company,  these  many  years, 
without  their  father's  knowing  it,  however. 

"No,"  said  Cowperwood,  considerately,  "father's  op 
posed  to  that  sort  of  thing.  We'd  better  go  to  a  res 
taurant." 

Cowperwood,  senior,  in  spite  of  his  other  troubles,  felt 
relieved.  It  was  something  not  to  have  to  go  to  a  saloon 
even  if  your  son  was  being — sent  to  the  penitentiary. 
They  finally  compromised  on  a  near-by  restaurant,  where 
coffee  was  ordered;  and  then,  when  the  time  was  up, 
they  entered  the  "pen,"  awaiting  momentarily  the  order 

657 


THE    FINANCIER 

of  the  court  to  have  all  prisoners  up  for  sentence  brought 
before  him.  Cowperwood,  senior,  and  his  two  free  sons 
were  compelled  to  leave  after  a  moment,  as  it  was  against 
the  rules  for  them  to  remain  here.  They  sought  places 
in  the  court  -  room  proper.  Eddie  Zanders  remained 
with  his  charge.  Stener  and  a  deputy  by  the  name  of 
Wilkerson  were  in  the  room ;  and  because  of  their  original 
quarrel  Cowperwood  and  Stener  pretended  now  not  to 
see  each  other.  Cowperwood  had  no  objection  to  talking 
to  his  former  associate,  but  he  could  see  that  he  was  diffi 
dent  and  ashamed.  So  he  let  the  situation  pass  with 
out  look  or  word  of  any  kind.  After  some  three-quarters 
of  an  hour  of  dreary  waiting  the  door  leading  into  the 
court-room  proper  opened  and  a  bailiff  in  blue  stepped  in. 

"All  prisoners  up  for  sentence,"  he  called. 

There  were  some  six,  all  told,  including  Cowperwood 
and  Stener.  Two  of  them  were  house-breakers  who  had 
worked  as  confederates  and  had  been  caught  red-handed 
at  their  midnight  task.  Both  of  them  had  taken  off  their 
shoes,  as  the  trial  had  proved,  and  put  them  under  the 
basement  steps  of  the  house  in  which  they  were  operat 
ing,  where  a  prowling  officer  had  discovered  them.  They 
had  fled  on  hearing  the  approach  of  the  police,  and  had 
only  been  captured  after  a  hard  chase;  but  despite  the 
absence  of  their  shoes  they  had  denied  that  they  were 
the  persons  wanted,  and  had  stood  trial,  alleging  that 
they  were  not  without  shoes,  and  that  the  police  were 
"railroading"  them.  This  was  their  second  offense. 

Another  prisoner  was  no  more  and  no  less  than  a  plain 
horse- thief,  a  young  man  of  twenty-six,  who  had  been 
convicted  by  a  jury  of  stealing  a  rather  commonplace 
grocer's  horse  and  selling  it.  He  had  not  previously  been 
guilty  of  any  crime  in  so  far  as  the  court  records  showed, 
and  it  was  thought  that  he  would  get  off  with  a  light 
sentence,  though  there  was  not  so  much  of  the  mercy- 
for-first-offenders  theory  operative  in  that  day.  The  last 
man  was  a  negro,  a  tall,  shambling,  illiterate,  nebulous- 

658 


THE    FINANCIER 

minded  black,  who  had  walked  off  with  an  apparently 
discarded  section  of  lead  pipe  which  he  had  found  in  a 
lumber-yard.  His  idea  was  to  sell  or  trade  it  for  a  drink. 
He  really  did  not  belong  in  this  court  at  all;  but,  hav 
ing  been  caught  by  an  undersized  American  watchman 
charged  with  the  care  of  the  property,  and  having  at  first 
refused  to  plead  guilty,  not  quite  understanding  what  was 
to  be  done  with  him,  he  had  been  perforce  bound  over 
to  this  court  for  trial.  Afterward  he  had  changed  his 
mind  and  admitted  his  guilt,  so  he  now  had  to  come 
before  Judge  Payderson  for  sentence  or  dismissal.  The 
lower  court  before  which  he  had  originally  been  brought 
had  lost  jurisdiction  by  binding  him  over  to  the  higher 
court  for  trial.  Eddie  Zanders,  in  his  self-appointed 
position  as  guide  and  mentor  to  Cowperwood,  had  con 
fided  nearly  all  of  this  data  to  him  as  he  stood  waiting. 

The  court-room  was  crowded.  It  was  very  humiliating 
to  Cowperwood  to  have  to  file  in  this  way  along  the  side 
aisle,  preceded  by  the  negro,  the  confederated  house 
breakers,  and  the  horse-thief,  and  followed  by  Stener, 
well  dressed  but  sickly-looking  and  disconsolate.  Cow 
perwood,  by  reason  of  his  physical  health,  his  face,  his 
keen,  intellectual  eyes,  his  good  clothes,  cut  and  worn 
with  the  greatest  care,  stood  out  in  marked  contrast  to 
the  shambling,  grinning,  half-witted  negro ;  to  the  queer, 
fox-like,  lantern-jawed  faces  of  the  house-breakers,  who 
looked  rugged  enough,  yet  anemic,  as  if  the  fluids  of 
their  bodies  were  but  ill  compounded,  and  as  though  they 
HacTbeen  reared  in  slums  and  cellars,  slinking  all  their 
days  through  an  unintelligible  world.  The  young  horse- 
thief,  who  fortunately  stood  directly  in  front  of  him 
instead  of  the  negro,  who  he  feared  by  some  irony 
of  fate  might  be  there,  looked  as  though  he  might  have 
been  very  hard  pressed  at  the  time  he  stole  the  horse. 
He  was  obviously  of  German  extraction  but  born  in 
America,  of  a  stocky  build,  all  of  five  feet  ten  inches,  with 
light,  straight  yellow  hair  and  a  skin  that  would  have  been 

659 


THE    FINANCIER 

ruddy  if  he  had  been  well  fed.  His  face  was  not  remark 
ably  intelligent;  neither  was  it  utterly  dull.  His  shoes,  as 
Cowperwood  noted,  were  run  down  at  the  heels,  his 
trousers  frayed  at  the  bottom,  his  coat  and  trousers  not 
so  much  dirty  as  baggy,  having  lost  all  kinship  with 
new,  tidy  garments.  No  doubt  he  had  been  lying  in  one 
of  those  miserable  cells  in  the  county  jail,  Cowperwood 
thought,  which  he,  for  a  price,  had  escaped.  Cowperwood 
looked  at  his  thin  but  not  badly  shaped  ears,  noticing 
that  they  were  dirty.  Why  shouldn't  they  be,  though? 
he  asked  himself,  knowing  a  little  more  now  of  jails  than 
he  ever  had  before.  The  man  had  but  small  chance  to 
wash,  no  doubt.  In  his  hands  he  held  a  faded  cap  of 
some  cross-barred  cheviot,  which  he  kept  rolling  and  un 
rolling  nervously.  Cowperwood  understood  quite  well 
now.  He  forgave  him  all  his  sins  because  of  the  stress 
of  life  that  had  no  doubt  staggered  and  overcome  his 
feeble  intellect.  He  felt  sorry  now  for  this  entire  shabby 
row  of  convicts  like  himself,  sorry  for  all  who  were  in 
jails,  men  who  were  here  now  or  would  be  or  had  been. 
It  is  a  grim,  bitter  world  we  were  all  born  into,  he  re 
flected.  Who  was  to  straighten  out  the  matter  of  the 
unjust  equipment  with  which  most  people  began?  Who 
was  to  give  them  strong  minds  in  place  of  feeble  ones, 
able  bodies  instead  of  wretched  ones?  Where  were  they 
to  get  pure  tendencies  instead  of  impure  ones,  as  the  world 
looked  on  these  things?  The  world  was  full  of  jails  and 
laws  and  maxims  and  theories,  and  some  men  were 
strong  and  some  weak.  Some  were  sent  into  the  world 
filled  with  a  great  lust  and  a  great  ability  for  wealth  like 
himself,  a  mind  swift  to  see,  a  body  strong  to  endure; 
and  some  were  sent  half  equipped,  almost  shapeless  and 
formless — like  this  negro  at  the  head  of  the  line,  or  this 
poor  weakling  of  a  boy,  or  these  burglars — "ditch  de 
livered  of  a  drab,"  as  Shakespeare  had  put  it.  How  were 
they  going  to  win  in  life,  how  do  anything  important, 
how  save  their  pointless  lives  from  being  ground  between 

660 


THE    FINANCIER 

the  upper  and  the  nether  millstones  of  strength?  Strength 
and  weakness — there  lay  the  key,  the  answer.  Between 
upper  and  lower  wheels  of  strength  lay  weakness.  Were 
you  strong,  or  were  you  weak?  If  you  were  not  strong 
enough  to  win,  heaven  help  you !  In  the  center  of  life 
were  its  great  prizes,  where  intolerant  men  were  always 
battling  as  he  had  battled,  as  he  was  battling  still.  The 
weaklings  had  to  die.  And  here  was  this  pale,  thin,  dusty 
Payderson,  high  on  his  bench,  with  his  weak,  milky- 
blue  eyes,  and  his  thin-frizzled,  yellowish-wrhite  hair, 
looking  down  on  them  now.  His  whole  soul  was  con 
vinced  that  he  was  executing  some  very  important 
function  of  life — acting  in  accordance  with  some  in 
herent  fact  of  our  being  for  the  benefit  of  the  people. 
Good  heavens!  Payderson!  And  the  shifty,  tricky  law 
yers  !  And  the  wabbling  law !  Why  had  not  the  wabbling 
law  seen  to  it  that  he  had  not  had  one  kind  of  treatment 
at  the  county  jail  and  the  poor  scrubs  now  before  him 
another?  Why  had  not  the  wabbling  law  prevented  him 
from  being  indicted  not  so  much  as  a  real  offender  as  a 
scapegoat  ?  Why  had  not  the  wabbling  law  prevented  the 
politicians  from  influencing  this  court  and  the  one  above 
it?  Law — fiddlesticks!  Justice — nonsense!  He  had  no 
quarrel  with  things  in  particular.  He  was  just  a  little 
weary  of  the  endless  misunderstandings  and  topsy 
turvy  nature  of  life.  You  could  not  put  your  fingers 
on  any  definite  facts  save  those  of  strength  and  weakness, 
subtlety  or  the  lack  of  it;  and  he  had  his  fingers  there, 
safely  enough.  But  this  poor  silly  negro !  Would  Payder 
son  have  the  hardihood  really  to  punish  him  for  his  crime  ? 
And  this  horse-thief! 


CHAPTER   LXV 

IT  was  not  very  long  after  Cowperwood  thought  this 
that  he  found  out  what  Payderson  would  do.  Payder- 
son  had  been  listening  to  the  usual  arguments  between  the 
assistants  of  the  district  attorney's  office  and  the  lawyers 
for  the  defense  in  criminal  cases  as  to  why  certain  cases 
were  or  were  not  ready.  The  arrangement  of  the  day's 
trial  docket  was  always  the  first  business  of  the  morning. 
Having  finished  with  this,  he  was  now  ready  to  hear  from 
the  court  clerk,  Abel  Protus,  the  names  and  the  crimes 
of  all  those  who  were  to  be  sentenced  this  morning,  in 
their  order.  Protus,  as  was  customary  in  all  such  cases, 
had  handed  him,  by  the  courtesy  of  the  district  attorney's 
office,  the  papers  in  the  case  of  Charles  Ackerman,  the 
negro,  who  was  the  first  on  the  list. 

"How  is  it  this  man  comes  before  me  ?"  asked  Payderson, 
peevishly,  when  he  saw  the  amount  in  cash,  the  value  of 
the  property  Ackerman  was  supposed  to  have  stolen. 

"Your  honor,"  the  assistant  district  attorney  explained, 
promptly,  "this  negro  was  before  a  lower  court  and 
refused,  because  he  was  drunk,  or  something,  to  plead 
guilty.  The  lower  court,  because  the  complainant  would 
not  forego  the  charge,  was  compelled  to  bind  him  over 
to  this  court  for  trial.  Since  then  he  has  changed  his 
mind  and  has  admitted  his  guilt  to  the  district  attorney. 
He  would  not  be  brought  before  you  except  we  have  no 
alternative.  He  has  to  be  brought  here  now  in  order  to 
clear  the  calendar." 

Judge  Payderson  stared  quizzically  at  the  negro,  who 
was  leaning  comfortably  on  the  gate  or  bar  before  which 

662 


THE    FINANCIER 

the  average  criminal  stood  erect  and  terrified.  The  latter 
was  obviously  not  very  much  disturbed  by  this  examina 
tion,  -for  he  had  been  before  police-court  magistrates 
before  on  one  charge  and  another — drunkenness,  dis 
orderly  conduct,  and  the  like.  His  whole  attitude  was 
rather  innocent,  shambling,  lackadaisical,  amusing,  like 
that  of  a  large  Newfoundland  dog. 

"Well,  Ackerman,"  inquired  his  honor,  severely,  "did 
you  or  did  you  not  steal  this  piece  of  lead  pipe  as  charged 
here — four  dollars  and  eighty  cents'  worth?" 

"Yassah,  I  did,"  began  the  negro.  "I  tell  you  how  it 
was.  I  was  a-comin'  along  past  dat  lumber-yard  one 
Saturday  afternoon,  and  I  hadn't  been  wuckin',  an'  I  saw 
dat  piece  o'  pipe  thoo  de  fence,  lyin'  inside,  and  I  jes' 
reached  thoo  with  a  piece  o'  boad  I  found  dere  and  pulled 
it  over  to  me  an'  tuck  it.  An'  aftahwahd  dis  Mistah 
Watchman  man ' ' — he  waved  his  hand  oratorically  toward 
the  witness-chair,  where,  in  case  the  judge  might  wish  to 
ask  him  some  questions,  the  complainant  had  taken  his 
stand — "come  around  tuh  where  I  live  an'  accused  me  of 
done  takin'  it." 

"But  you  did  take  it,  didn't  you?" 

"  Yassah,  I  done  tuck  it." 

"Well,  don't  you  know  it's  wrong  to  do  anything  like 
that?  Didn't  you  know  when  you  reached  through  that 
fence  and  pulled  that  pipe  over  to  you  that  you  were 
stealing?  Didn't  you?" 

"Yassah,  I  knowed  it  was  wrong,"  replied  Ackerman, 
sheepishly.  "  I  didn't  think  'twus  stealin'  like  zackly,  but 
I  done  knowed  it  was  wrong.  I  done  knowed  I  oughtn' 
take  it,  I  guess." 

"Of  course  you  did.  Of  course  you  did.  That's  just 
it.  You  knew  you  were  stealing,  and  still  you  took  it." 

His  honor  was  very  emphatic,  but,  troubled  by  a  new 
thought,  he  turned  to  the  assistant  district  attorney,  who 
was  standing  near  him. 

"Has  the  man  to  whom  this  negro  sold  the  lead  pipe 
663 


THE    FINANCIER 

been  apprehended  yet  ? "  he  inquired,  sharply.  "  He  should 
be,  for  he's  more  guilty  than  this  negro,  a  receiver  of 
stolen  goods." 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  the  assistant.  "His  case  is  before 
Judge  Yawger." 

"Quite  right.  It  should  be,"  replied  Payderson,  se 
verely.  "This  matter  of  receiving  stolen  property  is  one 
of  the  worst  offenses,  in  my  judgment." 

He  then  turned  his  attention  to  Ackerman  again. 
"Now,  look  here,  Ackerman,"  he  exclaimed,  irritated  at 
having  to  bother  with  such  a  petty  case,  "I  want  to  say 
something  to  you,  and  I  want  you  to  pay  strict  attention 
to  me.  Straighten  up,  there!  Don't  lean  on  that  gate! 
You  are  in  the  presence  of  the  law  now. "  Ackerman  had 
sprawled  himself  comfortably  down  on  his  elbows  as  he 
would  have  if  he  had  been  leaning  over  a  back-fence  gate 
talking  to  some  one,  but  he  immediately  drew  himself 
straight,  still  grinning  foolishly  and  apologetically,  when 
he  heard  this.  "You  are  not  so  dull  but  that  you  can 
understand  what  I  am  going  to  say  to  you.  The  offense 
you  have  committed — stealing  a  piece  of  lead  pipe — is 
a  crime.  Do  you  hear  me  ?  A  criminal  offense — one  that 
I  could  punish  you  very  severely  for.  I  could  send  you 
to  the  penitentiary  for  one  year  if  I  chose — the  law  says 
I  may — one  year  at  hard  labor  for  stealing  a  piece  of 
lead  pipe.  Now,  if  you  have  any  sense  you  will  pay 
strict  attention  to  what  I  am  going  to  tell  you.  I  am 
not  going  to  send  you  to  the  penitentiary  right  now. 
I'm  going  to  wait  a  little  while.  I  am  going  to  sentence 
you  to  one  year  in  the  penitentiary — one  year.  Do  you 
understand?"  Ackerman  blanched  a  little  and  licked 
his  lips  nervously.  "And  then  I  am  going  to  suspend 
that  sentence — hold  it  over  your  head,  so  that  if  you 
are  ever  caught  taking  anything  else  you  will  be  punished 
for  this  offense  and  the  next  one  also  at  one  and  the  same 
time.  Do  you  understand  that?  Do  you  know  what  I 
mean?  Tell  me.  Do  you?" 

'664 


THE    FINANCIER 

"  Yassah!  I  does,  sir,"  replied  the  negro.  "  You'se  gwine 
to  let  me  go  now — tha's  it." 

The  audience  grinned,  and  his  honor  made  a  wry  face 
to  prevent  his  own  grim  grin. 

"I'm  going  to  let  you  go  only  so  long  as  you  don't 
steal  anything  else,"  he  thundered.  "The  moment  you 
steal  anything  else,  back  you  come  to  this  court,  and  then 
you  go  to  the  penitentiary  for  a  year  and  whatever  more 
time  you  deserve.  Do  you  understand  that?  Now,  I 
want  you  to  walk  straight  out  of  this  court  and  behave 
yourself.  Don't  ever  steal  anything.  Get  something 
to  do!  Don't  steal,  do  you  hear?  Don't  touch  anything 
that  doesn't  belong  to  you!  Don't  come  back  here!  If 
you  do,  I'll  send  you  to  the  penitentiary,  sure." 

"Yassah!  No,  sah,  I  won't,"  replied  Ackerman,  ner 
vously.  "I  won't  take  nothin'  more  that  don't  belong 
tuh  me." 

He  shuffled  away,  after  a  moment,  urged  along  by  the 
guiding  hand  of  a  bailiff,  and  was  put  safely  outside  the 
court,  amid  a  mixture  of  smiles  over  his  simplicity  and 
Payderson's  undue  severity  of  manner.  But  the  next 
case  was  called  and  soon  engrossed  the  interest  of  the 
audience. 

It  was  that  of  the  two  house-breakers,  Albert  Hursted 
and  William  Eugster,  whom  Cowperwood  had  been  and 
was  still  studying  with  much  curiosity.  In  all  his  life 
before  he  had  never  witnessed  a  sentencing  scene  of  any 
kind.  He  had  never  been  in  police  or  criminal  courts  of 
any  kind — rarely  in  any  of  the  civil  ones.  He  had  on 
several  occasions,  been  summoned,  but  had  always  man 
aged  to  evade  jury  duty.  He  was  curious  about  his  own 
case — somewhat  uncertain  and  disturbed — but  not  so 
much  so  but  that  he  could  take  an  interest  in  these  other 
examples.  They  seemed  to  parallel,  and  in  a  way  fore 
shadow,  his  own  doom.  He  was  glad  to  see  the  negro 
go,  and  gave  Payderson  credit  for  having  some  sense 
and  sympathy — more  than  he  had  expected.  He  won- 
22  665 


THE    FINANCIER 

dered  whether  by  any  chance  Aileen  was  here.  He  had 
objected  to  her  coming,  but  she  might  have.  She  was,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  in  the  extreme  rear,  pocketed  in  a  crowd 
near  the  door,  heavily  veiled,  but  present.  She  had  not 
been  able  to  resist  the  desire  to  know  quickly  and  surely 
her  beloved's  fate — to  be  near  him  in  his  hour  of  real 
suffering,  as  she  thought.  She  was  greatly  angered  at 
seeing  him  brought  in  with  a  line  of  ordinary  criminals 
and  made  to  wait  in  this,  to  her,  shameful  public  manner, 
but  she  could  not  help  admiring  all  the  more  the  dignity 
and  superiority  of  his  presence  even  here.  He  was  not 
even  pale,  she  thought,  just  the  same  firm,  forceful  man 
she  had  always  known  him  to  be.  My,  how  badly  life  had 
used  him  in  these  last  several  months — how  cruel  it  had 
been  to  him! 

When  the  name  of  William  Eugster  was  called — the 
two  house-breakers,  although  their  offenses  were  identical, 
were  nevertheless  sentenced  separately — he  followed  with 
his  peculiarly  suggestive  walk  to  the  rail.  Eugster  did 
not  walk  directly  forward  on  the  soles  of  his  feet,  but 
rather  pivoted  circularly  on  his  heels.  He  was  a  slathery 
type  of  man,  in  the  sense  in  which  the  Irish  use  the  word 
— meaning  loose-jointed,  pugnacious,  dour,  and  other 
things.  He  was  not  capable  of  looking  anything  under 
the  present  circumstances  save  uncertain.  Naturally, 
he  was  apprehensive  of  a  severe  sentence,  as  was  his 
companion,  and  perhaps  with  a  view  to  concealing  the 
significance  of  his  eyes,  kept  them  to  the  floor.  His 
hands,  as  Cowperwood  noted,  were  not  long  and  shapely 
like  those  of  a  craftsman  of  any  kind,  but  short  and 
stubby,  with  round,  homely  nails.  No  doubt,  he  thought, 
the  police  had  the  right  man  in  this  instance,  as  in  the  case 
of  his  partner,  who  was  of  a  somewhat  different  type ; 
but  how  could  one  tell?  How  could  one  figure  out  the 
devious  course  by  which  they  had  come  here? 

"William  Eugster,"  said  his  honor,  after  the  second 
bailiff  had  asked  his  name,  address,  age,  profession  or 

666 


THE    FINANCIER 

calling,  and  whether  he  had  ever  been  convicted  before, 
and  the  court  stenographer  had  taken  it  down,  "you  have 
been  convicted  of  the  crime  of  burglary  in  the  first  degree 
by  a  jury  of  your  own  selection,  and  under  circumstances 
which  it  seems  to  me  should  have  made  you  hesitate  to  put 
the  State  to  the  unnecessary  expense  of  prosecuting  you, 
seeing  that  the  evidence  was  sufficiently  definite  to  insure 
your  conviction  at  any  time.  At  the  time  you  were  first 
brought  before  me  I  gave  you  the  opportunity  of  pleading 
guilty  and  saving  the  State  this  expense,  and  I  told  you 
then  that,  seeing  this  was  your  second  offense,  it  would  go 
hard  with  you,  but  that  I  would  not  let  a  plea  of  guilty 
go  without  some  consideration  on  my  part.  You  chose 
not  to  accept  that  offer,  but  to  insist  instead  on  a  jury 
trial,  which  has  resulted  as  you  have  seen.  I  have,  there 
fore,  no  sympathy  with  you  in  your  position  at  this  time. 
You  have  been  guilty  of  house-breaking  before  under  cir 
cumstances  no  less  reprehensible  than  those  which  bring 
you  before  me  to-day.  The  crime  of  which  you  have 
been  convicted  was  undertaken  in  the  most  calculating 
and  deadly  spirit,  as  the  shoes  under  the  steps,  the  burglar's 
tools  and  knife  and  revolver  found  on  your  person  amply 
demonstrate.  Society  deserves  to  be  protected  against 
such  criminals  as  you,  and  I  would  be  lacking  in  my  duty 
as  a  servant  of  the  law  and  a  representative  of  the  will  of 
the  people  if  I  did  not  to  the  fullest  extent  of  the  authority 
granted  me  protect  society  against  you  and  your  kind. 
Finding  absolutely  nothing  to  modify  or  extenuate  your 
guilt,  I  sentence  you  to  fifteen  years'  imprisonment 
in  the  State  Penitentiary  for  the  Eastern  District,  at 
labor." 

He  turned  calmly  from  his  victim,  while  the  latter 
stared,  and  then  hurried  away,  being  marched  rapidly 
along  past  Cowperwood,  who  followed  him  with  his  eyes, 
only  to  turn  back  when  the  latter's  companion  in  crime, 
Albert  Hursted,  was  placed  at  the  rail.  The  latter  looked 
grimly  around  while  his  honor  sentenced  him  in  almost  the 

667 


THE    FINANCIER 

same  terms.  It  was  the  same  crime,  the  same  weapons; 
the  same  opportunity  to  plead  guilty  had  been  offered 
and  refused.  Cowperwood  looked  at  this  man  as  in 
terestedly  as  he  had  at  Eugster,  realizing  that  he  should 
have  both  of  them  for  companions  at  the  penitentiary  for 
the  Eastern  District.  Think,  he  might  even  encounter 
them  there — have  to  work  with  them! 

As  Albert  Hursted  passed  by  him  back  to  the  little 
"pen"  room,  shunted  along  by  a  controlling  bailiff, 
August  Nunnekamp,  the  young  man  charged  with  horse- 
stealing,  was  called  forward,  and  stood  at  the  rail,  rolling 
his  cap,  quite  pale,  evidently  underfed,  having  endured, 
no  doubt,  a  great  mental  strain  for  some  time  past.  As 
usual  his  record  was  taken  by  the  court  stenographer  and  a 
bailiff,  and  then  Judge  Payderson,  staring  at  the  indict 
ment  and  the  subsequent  history  of  his  case,  asked: 

"Where  did  you  come  from,  when  you  first  came  to 
Philadelphia,  Nunnekamp  ? ' ' 

"Trenton,  sir." 

"What  did  you  do  there?" 

"I  worked  in  a  pottery." 

"How  did  it  come  that  you  didn't  stay  there?" 

"They  shut  down,  most  of  them,  sir,  last  spring." 

"And  then  you  came  to  Philadelphia?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Why  didn't  you  admit  you  stole  this  horse  in  the  first 
place,  Nunnekamp,  instead  of  putting  the  State  to  all 
this  expense  of  trying  you  ?  You  did  steal  it,  didn't  you  ?" 

"I— I—" 

The  victim  swallowed  and  licked  his  lips.  He  had 
stolen  the  horse  truly  enough,  but  he  had  been  badly 
advised,  or  not  properly  influenced  to  tell  the  truth  in  the 
first  place.  A  spindling  fourth-rate  lawyer  had  been 
appointed  by  the  court  to  defend  him  (seeing  that  he  had 
no  money),  and  Nunnekamp  had  no  confidence  in  the 
latter.  He  had  been  afraid  to  admit  that  he  had  stolen 
the  horse,  because  he  fancied  an  effort  was  being  made  to 

668 


THE    FINANCIER 

trap  him.  Consequently,  he  had  lied  to  him.  The  silly 
lawyer,  an  undersized  American,  was  standing  beside  him 
now. 

"You'd  better  say  yes,"  he  whispered  to  Nunnekamp. 
"  It  '11  make  it  easier  for  you." 

"You  did,  didn't  you?"  shouted  Payderson,  very  much 
irritated  by  Nunnekamp 's  uncertainty  as  to  whether  he 
would  tell  the  truth  or  not  even  yet.  The  evidence  at  the 
trial  had  indicated  very  plainly  that  he  had  stolen  the 
horse. 

"Yes,  sir,"  he  finally  said. 

"Of  course!  That's  it!  You  had  to  put  the  State  to 
all  the  expense  of  trying  you,  although  you  knew  all  the 
time  that  you  had  stolen  the  horse  and  that  you  ought  to 
be  punished." 

Payderson  could  not  know  that  Nunnekamp  had  been 
brought  up  through  a  rather  hard  boyhood  and,  being 
not  too  strong  mentally,  had  often  sought  to  dodge  suf 
fering  by  lies. 

"Well,  Nunnekamp,  I  don't  know  what  to  think  of  you. 
I  guess  you  don't  amount  to  much,  really.  You  know 
you  stole  the  horse.  The  evidence  shows  that  you  worked 
for  this  grocer  a  little  while,  and  then  when  he  couldn't 
keep  you  any  more" — Nunnekamp  had  been  discharged 
because  he  was  really  not  quick  enough  to  be  a  grocer's 
clerk — "you  went  back  and  stole  his  horse.  That  shows 
a  very  bad  trait  in  you,  Nunnekamp.  You're  dull,  and 
you're  lacking  in  gratitude  and  honesty.  I  did  think 
some  of  letting  you  go,  seeing  this  is  your  first  offense, 
so  far  as  this  court  knows,  but,  all  things  considered,  I 
think  a  year  in  the  penitentiary  will  do  you  good.  It 
will  rouse  you  to  a  sense  of  the  significance  of  the  law, 
and  make  you  understand  that  the  property  of  others  is 
sacred  and  not  to  be  trifled  with.  My  judgment  is  that 
you  be  confined  in  the  penitentiary  for  the  Eastern  Dis 
trict  of  Pennsylvania  for  one  year,  and  that  you  repay 
to  this  grocer  the  value  of  this  horse,  as  estimated  here — 

669 


THE    FINANCIER 

one  hundred  and  thirty-five  dollars — out  of  your  future 
earnings." 

Nunnekamp  had  sold  the  horse  to  a  passing  peddler  for 
forty  dollars. 

He  was  led  away,  rolling  his  cap,  uncertain,  inefficient, 
not  knowing  what  to  think  of  his  crime  or  his  future. 

When  it  came  to  Cowperwood's  turn  to  be  called,  his 
honor  himself  stiffened  and  straightened  up,  for  this  was 
a  different  type  of  man,  and  he  could  not  be  handled  in  the 
same  way.  Payderson  became  much  more  self-conscious. 

"Frank  Algernon  Cowperwood,"  called  the  clerk. 

Cowperwood  stepped  briskly  forward  as  his  name  was 
called,  sorry  for  himself,  ashamed  of  his  position,  in  a  way, 
but  showing  it  neither  in  look  nor  manner.  He  stood  very 
straight  in  front  of  the  gate,  very  simple-mannered,  un 
assuming,  and  yet  courageous.  Payderson  eyed  him  as  he 
had  the  others. 

"Name?"  asked  the  bailiff,  for  the  benefit  of  the  court 
stenographer. 

"Frank  Algernon  Cowperwood." 

"Residence?" 

"Nineteen  hundred  thirty-seven  Girard  Avenue." 

"Occupation?" 

"Banker  and  broker." 

Cowperwood  had  been  joined  by  Steger  the  moment  he 
stepped  forward,  and  the  latter  stood  close  beside  him, 
very  dignified,  very  forceful,  ready  to  make  a  final  state 
ment  for  the  benefit  of  the  court  and  the  public,  when  the 
time  should  come.  Aileen  from  her  position  in  the  crowd 
near  the  door  was  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  biting  her 
fingers  nervously,  and  there  were  great  beads  of  perspira 
tion  on  her  brow.  Cowperwood's  father  was  tense  with 
excitement,  and  his  two  brothers  looked  quickly  away, 
doing  their  best  to  hide  their  fear  and  sorrow. 

"Ever  convicted  before?" 

"Never,"  replied  Steger  for  Cowperwood,  quietly. 

"Frank  Algernon  Cowperwood,"  called  the  clerk,  in 
670 


THE    FINANCIER 

his  nasal  singsong  way,  coming  forward,  ''have  you 
anything  to  say  why  judgment  should  not  now  be  pro 
nounced  upon  you?  If  so,  speak." 

Cowperwood  started  to  say  no,  but  Steger  put  up  his 
hand. 

"If  the  court  please,  my  client,  Mr.  Cowperwood,  the 
prisoner  at  the  bar,  is  neither  guilty  in  his  own  estima 
tion,  nor  in  that  of  two-fifths  of  the  Pennsylvania  State 
Supreme  Court — the  court  of  last  resort  in  this  State,"  he 
exclaimed,  loudly  and  clearly,  so  that  all  might  hear.  One 
of  the  interested  listeners  and  spectators  at  this  point 
was  Edward  Malia  Butler,  who  had  just  stepped  in  from 
another  court-room  where  he  had  been  talking  to  a  judge. 
An  obsequious  court  attendant  had  warned  him  that 
Cowperwood  was  about  to  be  sentenced.  He  had  really 
come  here  this  morning  in  order  not  to  miss  this  sentence, 
but  he  cloaked  his  motive  under  the  guise  of  another 
errand.  He  did  not  know  that  Aileen  was  there,  nor  did 
he  see  her.  The  crowd  was  quite  large.  The  Cowper- 
woods,  father  and  sons,  were  so  intent  on  Frank  that 
they  did  not  see  him.  Butler  had  a  peculiar  look  of  in 
terest  on  his  face — not  malicious,  but  strangely  grim  and 
determined. 

"As  he  himself  testified  at  the  time  of  his  trial,"  went 
on  Steger,  "and  as  the  evidence  clearly  showed,  he  was 
never  more  than  an  agent  for  the  gentleman  whose  offense 
was  subsequently  adjudicated  by  this  court;  and  as  an 
agent  he  still  maintains,  and  two -fifths  of  the  State 
Supreme  Court  agree  with  him,  that  he  was  strictly  within 
his  rights  and  privileges  in  not  having  deposited  the  sixty 
thousand  dollars'  worth  of  city  loan  certificates  at  the 
time,  and  in  the  manner  which  the  people,  acting  through 
the  district  attorney,  complained  that  he  should  have. 
My  client  is  a  man  of  rare  financial  ability.  By  the  vari 
ous  letters  which  have  been  submitted  to  your  honor  in 
his  behalf,  you  will  see  that  he  commands  the  respect 
and  the  sympathy  of  a  large  majority  of  the  most  force- 

671 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

ful  and  eminent  men  in  his  particular  world.  He  is  a  man 
of  distinguished  social  standing  and  of  notable  achieve 
ments.  Only  the  most  unheralded  and  the  unkindest 
thrust  of  fortune  has  brought  him  here  before  you  to-day 
— a  fire  and  its  consequent  panic  which  involved  a  finan 
cial  property  of  the  most  thorough  and  stable  character. 
In  spite  of  the  verdict  of  the  jury  and  the  decision  of 
three-fifths  of  the  State  Supreme  Court,  I  maintain  that 
my  client  is  not  an  embezzler,  that  he  has  not  committed 
larceny,  that  he  should  never  have  been  convicted,  and 
that  he  should  not  now  be  punished  for  something  of 
which  he  is  not  guilty. 

"I  trust  that  your  honor  will  not  misunderstand  me 
or  my  motives  when  I  point  out  in  this  situation  that 
what  I  have  said  is  true.  I  do  not  wish  to  cast  any  re 
flection  on  the  integrity  of  this  court,  nor  of  any  court, 
nor  of  any  of  the  processes  of  law.  I  appreciate  the  pecu 
liar  and  distinguished  position  which  your  honor  holds 
in  this  matter.  But  I  do  condemn  and  deplore  the  un 
toward  chain  of  events  which  has  built  up  a  seeming 
situation,  not  easily  understood  by  the  lay  mind,  and 
which  has  brought  my  distinguished  client  within  the 
purview  of  the  law.  I  think  it  is  but  fair  that  this  should 
be  finally  publicly  stated  here  and  now.  I  ask  that  your 
honor  be  lenient,  and  that  if  you  cannot  conscientiously 
dismiss  this  charge  you  will  at  least  see  that  the  facts,  as  I 
have  indicated  them,  are  given  due  weight  in  the  measure 
of  the  punishment  inflicted." 

Steger  stepped  back;  and  Judge  Payderson  nodded, 
as  much  as  to  say  he  had  heard  all  the  distinguished  law 
yer  had  to  say,  and  would  give  it  such  consideration  as 
it  deserved — no  more.  Then  he  turned  to  Cowperwood, 
who  was  standing  as  erect  as  before,  and,  summoning 
all  his  judicial  dignity  to  his  aid,  he  began: 

"Frank  Algernon  Cowperwood,  you  have  been  convict 
ed  by  a  jury  of  your  own  selection  of  the  offense  of  lar 
ceny.  The  motion  for  a  new  trial,  made  in  your  behalf 

672 


THE    FI  NANCI  ER 

by  your  learned  counsel,  has  been  carefully  considered  and 
overruled,  the  majority  of  the  court  being  entirely  satis 
fied  with  the  propriety  of  the  conviction,  both  upon  the 
law  and  the  evidence.  Your  offense  was  one  of  more  than 
usual  gravity,  the  more  so  that  the  large  amount  of  money 
which  you  obtained  belonged  to  the  city.  And  it  was 
aggravated  by  the  fact,  of  which  we  have  judicial  knowl 
edge,  that  you  had  in  addition  thereto  unlawfully  used 
and  converted  to  your  own  use  several  hundred  thousand 
dollars  of  the  loan  and  money  of  the  city.  For  such  an 
offense  the  maximum  punishment  affixed  by  the  law  is 
singularly  merciful.  Nevertheless,  the  facts  in  connec 
tion  with  your  hitherto  distinguished  position,  the  circum 
stances  under  which  your  failure  was  brought  about,  and 
the  courteous  appeal  of  your  numerous  friends  and  financial 
associates,  will  be  given  due  consideration  by  this  court. 
It  is  not  unmindful  of  any  important  fact  in  your  career." 
Payderson  paused  as  if  in  doubt  what  further  to  say, 
though  he  knew  very  well  how  he  was  about  to  proceed. 
It  was  all  written  out  and  in  his  mind.  He  knew  what 
his  superiors  expected  of  him. 

"If  your  case  points  no  other  moral,"  he  went  on,  after 
a  moment,  toying  with  the  briefs,  "it  will  at  least  teach 
the  lesson,  long  needed  at  the  present  time,  that  the 
treasury  of  the  city  is  not  to  be  invaded  and  plundered 
with  impunity  under  the  thin  disguise  of  a  business 
transaction,  and  that  there  is  still  a  power  in  the  law  to 
vindicate  itself  and  to  protect  the  public. 

"The  sentence  of  the  court,"  he  added,  solemnly,  the 
while  Cowperwood  gazed  on  unmoved,  "is,  therefore, 
that  you  pay  a  fine  of  five  thousand  dollars  to  the  common 
wealth  for  the  use  of  the  county,  that  you  pay  the  costs 
of  prosecution,  and  that  you  undergo  imprisonment  in 
the  State  Penitentiary  for  the  Eastern  District  by  sepa 
rate  or  solitary  confinement  at  labor  for  a  period  of  four 
years  and  six  months,  and  that  you  stand  committed 
until  this  sentence  is  complied  with." 

673 


THE    FINANCIER 

The  judge  dropped  the  papers  and  moved  to  pick  up 
those  in  connection  with  Stener,  who  was  to  follow,  satis 
fied  that  he  had  given  the  financiers  no  chance  to  say  he 
had  not  given  due  heed  to  their  plea  in  Cowperwood's 
behalf,  and  yet  certain  that  the  politicians  would  be 
pleased  that  he  had  so  nearly  given  Cowperwood  the 
maximum,  while  appearing  to  have  given  due  heed  to 
the  pleas  for  mercy  in  his  case.  Cowperwood  saw  through 
the  trick  at  once;  but  it  did  not  disturb  him.  It  struck 
him  as  rather  weak  and  contemptible.  A  bailiff  came  for 
ward  and  started  to  hurry  him  away. 

"Allow  the  prisoner  to  remain  a  moment,"  called  Judge 
Payderson. 

The  name  of  George  W.  Stener  had  been  called  by 
the  clerk,  and  the  ex-city  treasurer  was  now  quite  near. 
Cowperwood  did  not  quite  understand  why  it  was  that 
he  was  detained,  but  he  soon  learned.  It  was  that  he 
might  hear  the  opinion  of  the  court  in  connection  with 
his  co-partner  in  crime.  The  latter's  record  was  taken, 
as  had  been  Cowperwood's.  Roger  O'Mara,  the  Irish 
political  lawyer  who  had  been  his  counsel  all  through  his 
troubles,  stood  near  him,  but  had  nothing  to  say  beyond 
asking  the  judge  to  consider  Stener's  previously  honorable 
career.  Cowperwood's  father,  who  had  borne  up  rather 
courageously  until  the  actual  sentence  was  pronounced, 
was  concealing  his  wet  eyes  behind  the  back  of  his  son 
Edward,  who  was  leaning  over  with  his  elbows  on  the  seat 
before  him,  his  head  in  his  hands.  Aileen  was  biting  her 
lower  lip  and  clinching  her  hands  to  keep  down  rage  and 
disappointment  and  tears.  ' '  Four  years  and  six  months, ' ' 
she  thought.  That  would  make  a  terrible  gap  in  his  life 
— in  hers.  Still,  she  could  wait.  It  was  better  than  eight 
or  ten  years,  as  she  had  feared  it  might  be.  Perhaps 
now,  once  this  was  really  over  and  Cowperwood  in  prison, 
the  governor  would  pardon  him,  as  he  thought.  Oh,  if 
he  only  would! 

While  she  was  thinking  Judge  Payderson  was  begin- 

674 


THE    FINANCIER 

ning  to  address  Stener,  who  made  no  such  figure  as  Cow- 
perwood  had,  standing  before  the  rail  or  gate.  He  was 
too  pale,  too  limp,  too  sagged  in  on  himself.  He  looked 
very  tired  and  very  sickly. 

"George  W.  Stener,"  said  his  honor,  while  the  audience, 
including  Cowperwood,  listened  attentively,  "the  rule 
for  a  new  trial  in  your  case  having  been  refused  and  the 
motion  in  arrest  of  judgment  overruled,  it  remains  for 
the  court  to  impose  such  sentence  as  the  nature  of  your 
offense  requires.  I  do  not  desire  to  add  to  the  pain  of 
your  position  by  any  extended  remarks  of  my  own;  but 
I  cannot  let  the  occasion  pass  without  expressing  my 
emphatic  condemnation  of  your  offense.  The  misappli 
cation  of  public  money  has  become  the  great  crime  of 
the  age.  If  not  promptly  and  firmly  checked,  it  will 
ultimately  destroy  our  institutions.  When  a  republic 
becomes  honeycombed  by  corruption  its  vitality  is  gone. 
It  must  crumble  upon  the  first  pressure. 

' '  In  my  opinion,  the  public  are  much  to  blame  for  your 
offense  and  others  of  a  similar  character.  Heretofore, 
official  fraud  has  been  regarded  with  too  much  indiffer 
ence.  What  we  need  is  a  higher  and  purer  political 
morality — a  state  of  public  opinion  which  would  make 
the  improper  use  of  public  money  a  thing  to  be  execrated. 
It  was  the  lack  of  this  which  made  your  offense  possible. 
Beyond  that  I  see  nothing  of  extenuation  in  your  case." 
Judge  Payderson  paused  for  emphasis.  He  was  coming 
to  his  finest  flight,  and  he  wanted  it  to  sink  in. 

"The  people  had  confided  to  you  the  care  of  their 
money,"  he  went  on,  solemnly.  "It  was  a  high,  a  sacred 
trust.  You  should  have  guarded  the  door  of  the  treas 
ury  even  as  the  cherubim  protected  the  Garden  of  Eden, 
and  should  have  turned  the  flaming  sword  of  impeccable 
honesty  against  every  one  who  approached  it  improperly. 
Your  position  as  the  representative  of  a  great  com 
munity  warranted  that.  You  have  sinned  against  the 
light. 

675 


THE    FINANCIER 

"In  view  of  all  the  facts  in  your  case  the  court  can  do 
no  less  than  impose  a  major  penalty.  The  seventy- 
fourth  section  of  the  Criminal  Procedure  Act  provides 
that  no  convict  shall  be  sentenced  by  the  court  of  this 
commonwealth  to  either  of  the  penitentiaries  thereof, 
for  any  term  which  shall  expire  between  the  fifteenth  of 
November  and  the  fifteenth  day  of  February  of  any  year, 
and  this  provision  requires  me  to  abate  three  months 
from  the  maximum  of  time  which  I  would  affix  in  your 
case — namely,  five  years.  The  sentence  of  the  court  is, 
therefore,  that  you  pay  a  fine  of  five  thousand  dollars 
to  the  commonwealth  for  the  use  of  the  county" — Pay- 
derson  knew  well  enough  that  Stener  could  never  pay 
that  sum — "and  that  you  undergo  imprisonment  in 
the  State  Penitentiary  for  the  Eastern  District,  by  sepa 
rate  and  solitary  confinement  at  labor,  for  the  period  of 
four  years  and  nine  months,  and  that  you  stand  com 
mitted  until  this  sentence  is  complied  with." 

He  laid  down  the  briefs  and  rubbed  his  chin  reflectively, 
thinking  how  nearly  he  had  complied  with  the  wish  of  his 
political  superiors,  that  Cowperwood  and  Stener  be  given 
the  same  sentence,  and  both  the  latter  were  hurried  out. 
Butler  was  the  first  to  leave  after  the  sentence — quite 
satisfied.  Seeing  that  all  was  over  so  far  as  she  was  con 
cerned,  Aileen  stole  quickly  out;  and  after  her,  in  a  few 
moments,  came  Cowperwood's  father  and  brother.  They 
were  to  await  him  outside,  or  he  was  to  await  them,  and 
they  were  to  go  with  him  to  the  penitentiary.  The  re 
maining  members  of  the  family  in  Girard  Avenue  were 
eagerly  awaiting  intelligence  of  the  morning's  work,  and 
Joseph  Cowperwood  was  at  once  despatched  to  tell  them. 
Cowperwood  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  go  back  home 
at  present.  Steger  told  him  that  he  was  sure  he  would  be 
wanted  in  the  bankruptcy  court  the  following  Thursday, 
and  if  he  chose  he  could  visit  his  home  then.  Seeing  that 
he  had  actually  been  sentenced,  the  sheriff  was  anxious 
to  get  Cowperwood  off  his  hands — out  of  his  jurisdiction, 

676 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

as  it  were.  He  had  given  Zanders  orders  to  take  him 
straight  away  after  obtaining  the  final  commitment  paper 
of  the  court,  which  was  now  ready. 

The  day  had  now  become  cloudy,  lowery,  and  it  looked 
as  if  it  might  snow  a  little.  Eddie  Zanders,  who  had  been 
given  all  the  papers  in  the  case,  announced  that  there  was 
no  need  to  return  to  the  county  jail.  In  consequence  the 
five  of  them — Zanders,  Steger,  Cowperwood,  his  father, 
and  Edward — got  into  a  street-car  which  ran  to  within 
a  few  blocks  of  the  prison.  Within  half  an  hour  they 
were  at  the  gates  of  the  Eastern  Penitentiary. 


CHAPTER  LXVI 

THE  Eastern  District  Penitentiary  of  Pennsylvania, 
located  at  Fairmount  Avenue  and  Twenty-first  Street 
in  Philadelphia,  where  Cowperwood  was  now  to  serve  his 
sentence  of  four  years  and  six  months,  was  a  large,  gray- 
stone  structure — or  wall  and  inclosed  prison  ten  acres  in 
extent — solemn  and  momentous  in  its  mien,  not  at  all 
unlike  the  palace  of  the  Sforzas  at  Milan,  although  not  so 
distinguished.  It  stretched  its  gray  length  for  several 
blocks  along  four  different  streets,  and  looked  as  lonely 
and  forbidding  as  a  prison  should.  The  wall  which 
inclosed  its  great  acreage  and  gave  it  so  much  of  its 
solemn  dignity  was  thirty-five  feet  high  and  some  seven 
feet  thick.  The  prison  proper,  which  was  not  visible  from 
the  outside,  consisted  of  seven  arms  or  corridors,  ranged 
octopus-like  around  a  central  room  or  court,  and  occupy 
ing  in  their  sprawling  length  about  two-thirds  of  the 
ten-acre  yard  inclosed  within  the  walls,  so  that  there  was 
but  little  space  for  the  charm  of  lawn  or  sward.  The 
corridors,  forty-two  feet  wide  from  outer  wall  to  outer  wall, 
were  one  hundred  and  eighty  feet  in  length,  and  in  four 
instances  two  stories  high,  and  extended  in  their  long  reach 
in  every  direction.  There  were  no  windows  in  the  corridors, 
only  narrow  slits  of  skylights,  three  and  one-half  feet 
long  by  perhaps  eight  inches  wide,  let  in  the  roof;  and 
the  ground-floor  cells  were  accompanied  in  some  instances 
by  a  small  yard  ten  by  sixteen — the  same  size  as  the  cells 
proper — which  was  surrounded  by  a  high  brick  wall  in 
every  instance.  The  cells  and  floors  and  roofs  were  made 
of  stone,  and  the  corridors,  which  were  only  ten  feet 
wide  between  the  cells,  and  in  the  case  of  the  single-story 

678 


THE    FINANCIER 

portion  only  fifteen  feet  high,  were  paved  with  stone. 
If  you  stood  in  the  central  room,  or  rotunda,  and  looked 
down  the  long  stretches  which  departed  from  you  in 
every  direction,  you  had  a  sense  of  narrowness  and  con 
finement  not  compatible  with  their  length.  The  iron 
doors,  with  their  outer  accompaniment  of  wooden  ones, 
which  were  used  at  times  to  shut  the  prisoner  from  all 
sight  and  sound,  were  grim  and  unsatisfactory  to  behold. 
The  halls  were  light  enough,  being  whitewashed  fre 
quently  and  set  with  the  narrow  skylights,  which  were 
closed  with  frosted  glass  in  winter;  but  they  were,  as  are 
all  such  matter-of-fact  arrangements  for  incarceration, 
bare — wearisome  to  look  upon.  Life  enough  there  was 
in  all  conscience,  seeing  that  there  were  four  hundred 
prisoners  here  at  the  time,  and  that  nearly  every  cell 
was  occupied;  but  it  was  a  life  of  which  no  one  indi 
vidual  was  aware  of  as  a  spectacle.  He  was  of  it;  but 
he  was  not.  Some  of  the  prisoners,  after  long  service, 
were  used  as  "trusties"  or  "runners,"  as  they  were  locally 
called;  but  not  many.  There  was  a  bakery,  a  machine- 
shop,  a  carpenter-shop,  a  store-room,  a  flour-mill,  and  a 
series  of  gardens,  or  truck  patches;  but  the  manipulation 
of  these  did  not  require  the  services  of  a  large  number. 

The  prison  proper  dated  from  1822,  and  it  had  grown, 
wing  by  wing,  until  its  present  considerable  size  had  been 
reached.  Its  population  consisted  of  individuals  of  all  de 
grees  of  intelligence  and  crime,  from  murderers  to  minor 
practitioners  of  larceny.  It  had  what  was  known  as  the 
"Pennsylvania  System"  of  regulation  for  its  inmates, 
which  was  nothing  more  nor  less  than  solitary  confine 
ment  for  all  concerned — a  life  of  absolute  silence  and 
separate  labor  in  separate  cells. 

When  Cowperwood  and  his  party,  walking  along  Fair- 
mount  Avenue,  were  confronted  by  the  great  gray 
Gothic  gate  of  the  penitentiary,  with  its  iron-riveted 
doors  and  its  sentinel  towers  and  the  dreary  expanse  of 
high  wall  disappearing  to  either  side,  it  was  beginning  to 

679 


THE    FINANCIER 

blow  a  few  fat,  feathery  flakes  of  snow,  which  gave  the 
whole  place  a  somewhat  melodramatic  and  stagy  appear 
ance,  which  was  not  lost  on  him.  Barring  his  compara 
tively  recent  experience  in  the  county  jail,  which  after  all 
was  not  an  accurate  one,  he  had  never  been  in  a  prison  in 
his  life.  Once,  when  a  boy,  in  one  of  his  perambulations 
with  "Spat"  McGlathery  and  others  through  several  of  the 
surrounding  towns,  he  had  passed  a  village  "lock-up,"  as 
the  town  prisons  were  then  called — a  small,  square, 
gray  building  with  long  iron-barred  windows,  and  he  had 
seen,  at  one  of  these  rather  depressing  apertures  on  the 
second  floor,  a  none  too  prepossessing  drunkard  or  town 
ne'er-do-well  who  looked  down  on  him  with  bleary  eyes, 
unkempt  hair,  and  a  sodden,  waxy,  pallid  face,  and 
called — for  it  was  summer  and  the  jail  window  was 
open: 

"Hey,  sonny,  get  me  a  plug  of  tobacco,  will  you?" 

Cowperwood,  who  had  looked  up,  shocked  and  dis 
turbed  by  the  man's  disheveled  appearance,  had  called, 
quite  without  stopping  to  think: 

"Naw,  I  can't." 

"Look  out  you  don't  get  locked  up  yourself  sometime, 
you  little  runt,"  the  man  ha'd  replied,  savagely,  only  half 
recovered  from  his  debauch  of  the  day  before. 

Cowperwood  had  been  a  little  sickened  and  frightened 
by  the  spectacle,  and  he  remembered  having  a  keen  desire 
to  get  away.  He  had  not  thought  of  this  particular  scene 
in  years,  but  now  suddenly  it  came  back  to  him.  Here 
he  was  on  his  way  to  be  locked  up  in  this  dull,  somber 
prison,  and  it  was  snowing,  and  he  was  being  cut  out  of 
human  affairs  as  much  as  it  was  possible  for  him  to  be 
cut  out. 

When  Cowperwood  arrived  with  his  father,  brother, 
Steger,  and  Zanders,  he  was  informed  that  his  relatives 
could  only  go  with  him  to  the  outer  gate.  No  friends 
were  permitted  to  accompany  him  beyond  that — not  even 
Steger  for  the  time  being,  though  he  might  visit  him  later 

68p 


THE    FINANCIER 

in  the  day.  This  was  an  inviolable  rule.  Zanders  being 
known  to  the  gate-keeper,  and  bearing  his  commitment 
paper,  was  admitted  at  once.  The  others  turned  solemnly 
away.  They  bade  an  affectionate  farewell  to  Cowperwood, 
who,  however,  attempted  to  make  it  as  matter-of-fact 
as  possible. 

''Well,  good-by  for  the  present,"  he  said,  shaking 
hands.  "I'll  be  all  right.  Tell  Lillian  not  to  worry." 

He  stepped  inside,  and  the  gate  clanked  solemnly  be 
hind  him.  Zanders  led  the  way  through  a  dark,  somber 
hall,  wide  and  high-ceiled,  to  a  farther  gate,  where  a 
second  gateman,  trifling  with  a  large  key,  unlocked  a 
barred  door  at  his  bidding.  Once  inside  the  prison  yard, 
Zanders  turned  to  the  left  into  a  small  office,  presenting 
his  prisoner  before  a  small,  chest-high  desk,  where  stood 
a  prison  officer  in  uniform  of  blue.  The  latter,  the  re 
ceiving  overseer  of  the  prison — a  thin,  practical,  executive- 
looking  person  with  narrow  gray  eyes  and  light  hair, 
took  the  paper  which  the  sheriff's  deputy  handed  him  and 
read  it.  This  was  his  authority  for  receiving  Cowperwood. 
In  his  turn  he  handed  Zanders  a  slip,  showing  that  he  had 
so  received  the  prisoner;  and  the  latter  left,  receiving 
gratefully  the  tip  which  Cowperwood  pressed  in  his  hand. 

"Well,  good-by,  Mr.  Cowperwood,"  he  said,  with  a 
peculiar  twist  of  his  detective-like  head.  "I'm  sorry.  I 
hope  you  won't  find  it  so  bad  here." 

He  wanted  to  impress  the  receiving  overseer  with  his 
familiarity  with  this  distinguished  prisoner,  and  Cowper 
wood,  true  to  his  policy  of  make-believe,  shook  hands 
with  him  cordially. 

"I'm  much  obliged  to  you  for  your  courtesy,  Mr. 
Zanders,"  he  said. 

Zanders  went  out.  Cowperwood  turned  to  his  new 
master  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  is  determined  to  make 
a  good  impression.  He  was  now  in  the  hands  of  petty 
officials,  he  knew,  who  could  modify  or  increase  his  com 
fort  at  will.  He  wanted  to  impress  this  man  with  his 

681 


THE    FINANCIER 

utter  willingness  to  comply  and  obey — his  sense  of  respect 
for  his  authority — without  in  any  way  demeaning  him 
self.  He  had  no  particular  use  for  the  individual  before 
him,  intellectually  speaking ;  but  the  latter  could  be  of  use 
to  him,  and  so  he  prepared  to  be  nice  to  him.  He  was 
depressed  but  efficient,  even  here  in  the  clutch  of  that 
eventual  machine  of  the  law,  the  State  penitentiary, 
which  he  had  been  struggling  so  hard  to  evade. 

The  receiving  overseer,  Mr.  Roger  Kendall,  though  thin 
and  clerical,  was  a  rather  capable  man,  as  prison  officials 
go — shrewd,  not  particularly  well  educated,  not  over-in 
telligent  naturally,  not  over-industrious,  but  sufficiently 
energetic  to  hold  his  position.  He  knew  something  about 
convicts — considerable — for  he  had  been  dealing  with 
them  for  nearly  twenty-six  years.  His  attitude  toward 
them  was  cold,  cynical,  critical;  for  he  had  had  to  do  for 
nearly  half  of  his  life  with  individuals  whom  he  considered 
to  be  innately  liars,  cutthroats,  thieves,  robbers,  with  a 
modest  sprinkling  of  comparatively  decent  men.  Most 
of  them  were  dirty,  afraid  of  a  real  bath,  and  physically 
defective  in  some  way  or  other.  They  were  as  ignorant 
as  natural  deficiency  and  lack  of  opportunity  could  make 
them. 

He  did  not  permit  any  of  them  to  come  into  personal 
contact  with  him,  but  he  saw  to  it  that  underlings 
in  his  presence  carried  out  the  requirements  of  the 
law. 

When  Cowperwood  entered,  dressed  in  his  very  good 
clothing — a  dark  gray-blue  twill  suit  of  pure  wool,  his 
light,  well-made  gray  overcoat,  a  black  derby  hat  of  the 
latest  shape,  his  shoes  new  and  of  good  leather,  his  tie  of 
the  best  silk,  heavy  and  conservatively  colored,  his  hair 
and  mustache  showing  the  attention  of  an  intelligent 
barber,  and  his  hands  well  manicured — the  receiving 
overseer  saw  at  once  that  he  was  in  the  presence  of  some 
one  of  superior  intelligence  and  force,  such  a  man  as  the 
fortune  of  his  trade  rarely  brought  into  his  net.  Mr. 

682 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

Kendall  could  tell  at  once  by  Cowperwood's  simple 
manner,  his  direct,  unaffected  glance  that  he  was  sane  and 
wise  and  that  he  was  looking,  in  a  forceful  way,  to  be 
unobtrusive  and  not  to  give  offense. 

Cowperwood  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  room  without 
apparently  looking  at  any  one  or  anything,  though  he  saw 
all.  "Convict  number  3633,"  Kendall  called  to  a  clerk, 
handing  him  at  the  same  time  a  yellow  slip  of  paper 
on  which  was  written  Cowperwood's  full  name  and  his 
record  number,  counting  from  the  beginning  of  the  peni 
tentiary  itself. 

The  underling,  a  convict,  whose  name  was  Magerson, 
took  it  and  entered  it  in  a  book,  reserving  the  slip  at  the 
same  time  for  the  penitentiary  "runner"  or  "trusty," 
who  would  eventually  take  Cowperwood  to  the  "manners " 
gallery. 

"You  will  have  to  take  off  your  clothes  and  take  a 
bath,"  said  Mr.  Kendall  to  Cowperwood,  solemnly,  eying 
him  curiously.  "I  don't  suppose  you  need  one,  but  it's 
the  rule." 

"Thank  you,"  replied  Cowperwood,  pleased  that  his 
personality  was  counting  for  something  even  here.  ' '  What 
ever  the  rules  are,  I  want  to  obey." 

Mr.  Kendall  made  no  comment,  seeing  that  Cowperwood 
was  a  prisoner.  He  realized  that  he  was  dealing  with  his 
superior,  mentally  and  socially,  but  Cowperwood  was 
beneath  him  here,  and  that  was  enough.  When  Cowper 
wood  started  to  take  off  his  coat,  however,  he  put  up  his 
hand  delayingly  and  tapped  a  bell.  There  now  issued 
from  an  adjoining  room  an  assistant,  a  prison  servitor, 
a  weird-looking  specimen  of  the  genus  "trusty."  He  was 
a  small,  dark,  lop-sided  individual,  one  leg  being  slightly 
shorter,  and  therefore  one  shoulder  lower,  than  the  other. 
He  was  hollow-chested,  squint-eyed,  and  rather  sham 
bling,  but  spry  enough  withal.  He  was  dressed  in  a  thin, 
poorly  made,  baggy  suit  of  striped  jeans,  the  prison  stripes 
of  the  place,  showing  a  soft  roll-collar  shirt  underneath, 

683 


THE    FINANCIER 

and  wearing  a  large,  wide-striped  cap,  peculiarly  offensive 
in  its  size  and  shape  to  Cowperwood.  He  could  not  help 
thinking  how  uncanny  the  man's  squint  eyes  looked  under 
its  straight  out-standing  visor.  The  trusty  had  a  silly, 
sycophantic  manner  of  raising  one  hand  in  salute.  He  was 
a  professional  "second-story  man,",  "up"  for  ten  years, 
but  by  dint  of  good  behavior  he  had  attained  to  the  honor 
of  working  about  this  office  without  the  degrading  hood 
customary  for  prisoners  to  wear  over  the  cap.  For  this 
he  was  properly  grateful.  He  now  considered  his  superior 
with  nervous  dog-like  eyes,  and  looked  at  Cowperwood 
with  a  certain  cunning  appreciation  of  his  lot  and  a  show 
of  initial  mistrust. 

One  prisoner  is  as  good  as  another  to  the  average  con 
vict;  as  a  matter  of  fact,  it  is  their  only  consolation  in 
their  degradation  that  all  who  come  here  are  no  better 
than  they.  The  world  may  have  misused  them ;  but  they 
misuse  their  confreres  in  their  thoughts.  The  "holier 
than  thou"  attitude,  intentional  or  otherwise,  is  quite  the 
last  and  most  deadly  offense  within  prison  walls.  This 
particular  "trusty"  could  no  more  understand  Cowper 
wood  than  could  a  fly  the  motions  of  a  fly-wheel ;  but  with 
the  cocky  superiority  of  the  underling  of  the  world  he 
did  not  hesitate  to  think  that  he  could.  A  crook  was  a 
crook  to  him — Cowperwood  no  less  than  the  shabbiest 
pickpocket.  His  one  feeling  was  that  he  would  like  to 
demean  him,  to  pull  him  down  to  his  own  level.  Alas, 
he  was  to  have  no  great  opportunity. 

"You  will  have  to  take  everything  you  have  out  of 
your  pockets,"  Kendall  said  to  Cowperwood.  Ordinarily 
he  would  have  said,  "Search  the  prisoner." 

Cowperwood  stepped  forward  and  laid  out  a  purse 
with  twenty-five  dollars  in  it,  a  pen-knife,  a  lead -pencil,  a 
small  note-book,  and  a  little  ivory  elephant  which  Aileen 
had  given  him  once,  "for  luck,"  and  which  he  treasured 
solely  because  she  gave  it  to  him.  Kendall  looked  at  the 
latter  curiously.  "Now  you  can  go  on,"  he  said  to  the 

684 


THE    FINANCIER 

"trusty,"  referring  to  the  undressing  and  bathing  process 
which  was  to  follow. 

"This  way,"  said  the  latter,  addressing  Cowperwood, 
and  preceding  him  into  an  adjoining  room,  where  three 
closets  held  three  old-fashioned,  iron-bodied,  wooden-top 
bath-tubs,  with  their  attendant  shelves  for  rough  crash 
towels,  yellow  soap,  and  the  like,  and  hooks  for  clothes. 

"Get  in  there,"  said  the  trusty,  whose  name  was 
Thomas  Kuby,  pointing  to  one  of  the  tubs. 

Cowperwood  realized  that  this  was  the  beginning  of 
petty  official  supervision ;  but  he  deemed  it  wise  to  appear 
friendly  even  here. 

"I  see,"  he  said.     "I  will." 

"That's  right,"  replied  the  attendant,  somewhat 
placated.  "  What  did  you  bring  ?" 

Cowperwood  looked  at  him  quizzically.  He  did  not 
understand.  The  prison  attendant  realized  that  he  had 
said  something  here  which  was  superior  to  Cowperwood. 
The  latter  did  not  know  the  lingo  of  the  place.  "What 
did  you  bring?"  Kuby  repeated,  in  a  weird,  superior  way. 
"How  many  years  did  you  get?" 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  Cowperwood,  comprehendingly.  "I 
understand.  Four  and  a  half." 

He  decided  to  humor  the  man.  It  would  probably  be 
better  so. 

"What  for?"  inquired  Kuby,  familiarly. 

For  the  first  time  Cowperwood  winced  as  if  he  had 
been  stuck  with  a  knife.  His  blood  chilled  slightly. 
"Larceny,"  he  said. 

"Yuh  got  off  easy,"  commented  Kuby.  "I'm  up  for 
ten.  A  rube  judge  did  that  to  me." 

Kuby  had  never  heard  of  Cowperwood 's  crime.  He 
would  not  have  understood  its  subleties  if  he  had.  To 
him  a  criminal  was  a  criminal  like  himself.  Cowperwood 
did  not  want  to  talk  to  this  man;  he  did  not  know  how. 
He  wished  he  would  go  away;  but  that  was  not  likely. 
He  wanted  to  be  put  in  his  cell  and  let  alone, 

685 


THE    FINANCIER 

"That's  too  bad,"  he  answered;  and  the  convict  real 
ized  clearly  that  Cowperwood  was  really  not  one  of  them, 
or  he  would  not  have  said  anything  like  that.  Kuby 
went  to  the  two  hydrants  opening  into  the  bath-tub  and 
turned  them  on.  Cowperwood  had  been  undressing  the 
while,  and  now  stood  naked,  but  not  ashamed,  in  front 
of  this  eighth-rate  intelligence. 

"Don't  forget  to  wash  your  head,  too,"  said  Kuby, 
and  went  away. 

Cowperwood  stood  there  while  the  water  ran,  meditat 
ing  on  his  fate.  It  was  strange  how  life  had  dealt  with 
him  of  late — so  severely.  Unlike  most  men  in  his  position, 
he  was  not  suffering  from  a  consciousness  of  evil.  He 
did  not  think  he  was  evil.  As  he  saw  it,  he  was  merely 
unfortunate.  To  think  that  he  should  be  actually  in 
this  great,  silent  penitentiary,  a  convict,  waiting  here 
beside  this  cheap  iron  bath-tub,  not  too  sweet  or  hy 
gienic  to  contemplate,  with  this  crack-brained  criminal  to 
watch  over  him!  How  different  from  his  home,  his  old 
life !  What  were  his  friends  and  acquaintances  thinking  ? 
His  father  had  left  him  with  such  a  queer,  disconsolate 
look  in  his  eyes. 

He  got  in  the  tub  and  washed  himself  briskly  with 
the  biting  yellow  soap,  getting  out  finally  and  drying 
himself  on  one  of  the  rough,  only  partially  bleached 
towels.  He  looked  for  his  underwear,  but  there  was 
none. 

At  this  point  the  attendant  looked  in  again. 

"Out  here,"  he  said,  inconsiderately. 

Cowperwood  followed,  naked.  He  was  led  through 
the  receiving  overseer's  room  into  a  third  or  record  and 
measurement  room,  where  were  scales,  implements  of 
measurement,  a  record-book,  etc.  The  attendant  who 
stood  guard  at  the  door  now  came  over,  and  the  clerk 
who  sat  in  the  corner  automatically  took  down  a  record- 
blank.  Kendall  surveyed  Cowperwood 's  rather  forceful 
figure,  inclining  already,  however,  to  a  slight  stomach. 

686 


THE    FINANCIER 

His  skin  was  peculiarly  white  in  contrast  to  his  ruddy  face 
and  brown  hands. 

"Step  on  the  scale,"  said  the  attendant,  brusquely. 

Cowperwood  did  so.  The  former  adjusted  the  weights 
and  scanned  the  record  carefully. 

"Weight,  one  hundred  and  seventy-five,"  he  called. 
"Now  step  over  here." 

He  indicated  a  spot  in  the  side  wall  where  was  fastened 
in  a  thin  slat — which  ran  from  the  floor  to  about  seven 
and  one  half  feet  above,  perpendicularly — a  small  movable 
wooden  indicator,  which,  when  a  man  was  standing  under 
it,  could  be  pressed  down  on  a  level  with  his  head.  At  the 
side  of  the  slat  were  the  total  inches  of  height,  laid  off  in 
halves,  quarters,  eighths,  and  so  on,  and  to  the  right  a 
length  measurement  for  the  arm.  Cowperwood  under 
stood  what  was  wanted,  and  stepped  under  the  indicator, 
standing  quite  straight. 

"Feet  level,  back  to  the  wall,"  urged  the  attendant. 
"So.  Height,  fivs  feet  nine  and  ten -sixteenths,"  he 
called.  The  clerk  in  the  corner  noted  it.  He  now  pro 
duced  a  tape-measure  and  began  measuring  Cowper- 
wood's  arms,  legs,  chest,  waist,  hips,  etc.  He  called  out 
the  color  of  his  eyes,  his  hair,  his  mustaches,  and,  looking 
into  his  mouth,  exclaimed,  "Teeth,  all  sound." 

After  Cowperwood  had  once  more  given  his  address, 
age,  profession,  whether  he  knew  any  trade,  etc. — which 
he  did  not — he  was  allowed  to  return  to  the  bath-room, 
and  put  on  the  clothing  which  the  prison  provided  for 
him.  He  put  them  on  in  order — first  the  rough,  prickly 
underwear,  then  the  cheap  soft  roll-collar,  white-cotton 
shirt,  then  the  thick  bluish-gray  cotton  socks  of  a  quality 
such  as  he  had  never  worn  in  his  life,  and  over  these  a 
pair  of  indescribable  rough-leather  clogs,  which  felt 
to  his  feet  as  though  they  were  made  of  wood  or  iron 
— oily  and  heavy.  He  then  drew  on  the  shapeless,  baggy 
trousers  with  their  telltale  stripes,  and  over  his  arms 
and  chest  the  loose-cut  shapeless  coat  and  waistcoat.  He 

687 


THE    FINANCIER 

felt  and  looked  very  strange,  and  as  he  stepped  out  into 
the  overseer's  room  again  he  experienced  a  peculiar  sense 
of  depression,  a  gone  feeling  which  he  did  his  best  to 
conceal.  This,  then,  was  what  society  did  to  the  criminal, 
he  thought  to  himself.  It  took  him  and  tore  away  from 
his  body  and  his  life  the  habiliments  of  his  state  and  left 
him  these.  He  felt  sad  and  grim,  and,  try  as  he  would, 
he  could  not  help  showing  it  for  a  moment.  It  was 
always  his  business  and  his  intention  to  conceal  his  real 
feelings,  but  now  it  was  not  quite  possible.  He  felt 
degraded,  impossible,  in  these  clothes,  and  he  knew  that 
he  looked  it.  Nevertheless,  he  did  his  best  to  pull  him 
self  together  and  look  unconcerned,  willing,  obedient, 
considerate  of  those  above  him.  After  all,  he  said  to 
himself,  it  was  all  like  a  play  to  him,  a  dream — nothing 
more.  It  could  not  last.  He  was  acting  some  strange, 
unfamiliar  part  on  the  stage,  this  stage  of  life  that  he  knew 
so  well.  Surely  it  could  not  last.  It  was  too  insignificant, 
too  unimportant,  all  this.  Nevertheless,  he  was  depressed. 

Kendall  did  not  waste  any  time  looking  at  him,  however. 
He  merely  said  to  his  assistant,  "See  if  you  can  find  a  cap 
for  him" ;  and  the  latter,  going  to  a  closet  containing  num 
bered  shelves,  took  down  a  cap — a  high-crowned,  straight- 
visored,  shabby,  striped  affair  which  Cowperwood  was 
asked  to  try  on.  It  fitted  well  enough,  slipping  down  close 
over  his  ears,  and  he  thought  now  his  indignities  must  be 
about  over.  There  could  be  no  more  of  these  discom 
forting  accoutrements.  But  he  was  mistaken. 

"Now,  Kuby,  you  can  take  him  to  Mr.  Chapin,"  said 
Kendall. 

Kuby  understood.  He  went  back  into  the  wash-room 
and  produced  what  Cowperwood  had  heard  of  but  never 
before  seen — a  blue-and-white-striped  cotton  bag  about 
half  the  length  of  an  ordinary  pillow-case  and  half  again 
as  wide,  which  Kuby  unfolded  and  shook  out  as  he 
came  toward  him.  The  use  of  this  hood  was  a  custom, 
dating  from  the  earliest  days  of  the  prison,  intended  to 

688 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

humiliate  and  drive  home  to  the  incoming  prisoner  the 
fact  that  all  sense  of  social  connection  was  hereby  ended. 
The  hood  was  intended  to  destroy  all  sense  of  association 
with  fellow-prisoners,  and  by  preventing  a  sense  of  location 
and  direction  obviate  any  attempt  to  escape.  Thereafter 
during  all  his  stay  he  was  not  supposed  to  walk  with  or 
talk  to  or  see  another  prisoner — or  even,  to  any  extent, 
converse  with  his  superiors,  except  as  the  latter  were 
compelled  to  instruct  him.  It  was  a  grim  theory,  and  was 
really  worked  out  to  a  very  notable  extent,  although  when 
it  came  to  actual  practice  there  were  modifications,  as 
there  are  in  every  theory. 

"You'll  have  to  put  this  on,"  Kuby  said,  and  opened 
it  in  such  a  way  that  it  could  be  put  over  Cowperwood's 
head. 

The  latter  understood.  He  had  heard  of  it  in  some 
way,  in  times  past — not  through  Steger,  but  in  some 
general  gossip.  Little  had  he  ever  thought  that  this 
would  come  to  him.  All  his  wealth,  all  his  shrewdness 
had  not  been  able  to  prevent  it,  apparently.  He  was  a 
little  shocked — looked  at  it  first  with  a  touch  of  real 
surprise,  but  a  moment  after  lifted  his  hands  and  helped 
pull  it  down. 

"Never  mind,"  cautioned  the  guard,  "put  your  hands 
down.  I'll  get  it  over."  » 

Cowperwood  dropped  his  arms.  When  it  was  fully  on, 
it  came  to  about  his  chest,  giving  him  little  means  of  see 
ing  anything.  He  felt  very  strange,  very  humiliated,  very 
downcast.  This  simple  thing  of  a  blue-and-white-striped 
bag  over  his  head  almost  cost  him  his  sense  of  self-posses 
sion.  Why  could  not  they  have  spared  him  this  indignity  ? 
he  thought. 

"This  way,"  said  his  attendant,  and,  without  seeing 
anything  more  of  Kendall  or  his  assistants  or  the  room 
or  the  path  he  was  following,  he  was  led  out — to  where 
he  could  not  say. 

"If  you  hold  it  out  in  front  you  can  see  to  walk,"  said 
689 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

his  guide;  and  Cowperwood  pulled  it  out,  thus  being  able 
to  discern  his  feet  and  a  portion  of  the  floor  below.  He  was 
thus  conducted — seeing  nothing  in  his  transit — down  a 
short  walk,  then  through  a  long  corridor,  then  through  a 
room  of  uniformed  guards,  and  finally  up  a  narrow  flight 
of  iron  steps,  leading  to  the  overseer's  office  on  the  second 
floor  of  one  of  the  two-tier  blocks.  When  he  was  there, 
he  heard  the  voice  of  Kuby  saying,  "Mr.  Chapin,  here's 
another  prisoner  for  you  from  Mr.  Kendall." 

"I'll  be  there  in  a  minute,"  came  a  peculiarly  pleasant 
voice  from  the  distance,  an  older,  more  friendly  one. 
Cowperwood  could  feel  it.  Presently  a  big,  heavy  hand 
closed  about  his  arm,  and  he  was  conducted  still  further. 

"You  hain't  got  far  to  go  now,"  the  voice  said,  "and 
then  I'll  take  that  bag  off,"  and  Cowperwood  felt  for 
some  reason — a  sense  of  sympathy,  perhaps — :as  though 
he  would  choke. 


CHAPTER  LXVII 

THE  further  steps  were  not  many. 
A  cell  door  was  reached  and  unlocked  by  the  in 
serting  of  a  great  iron  key.  It  was  swung  open,  and 
the  same  big  hand  guided  him  through.  A  moment 
later  the  bag  was  pulled  easily  from  his  head,  and  he 
saw  that  he  was  in  a  narrow,  whitewashed  cell,  not  very 
light  and  not  very  dark,  windowless,  but  lighted  from 
the  top  by  a  small  skylight  of  frosted  glass  three  and 
one  half  feet  long  by  four  inches  wide.  For  a  night  light 
there  was  a  tin-bodied  lamp  swinging  from  a  hook  near 
the  middle  of  one  of  the  side  walls.  A  rough  iron  cot, 
furnished  with  a  straw  mattress  and  two  pairs  of  dark 
blue,  possibly  unwashed  blankets,  stood  in  one  corner. 
There  was  a  hydrant  and  small  sink  in  another.  A  shelf 
for  books  or  razor  cup  and  strop,  or  what  you  will,  occu 
pied  the  wall  opposite  the  bed.  A  plain  wooden  chair 
with  a  homely  round  back  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  bed, 
and  a  fairly  serviceable  broom  was  standing  in  one  corner. 
There  was  an  iron  stool  or  pot  for  excreta  giving,  as  he 
could  see,  into  a  large  drain-pipe  which  ran  along  the  in 
side  wall,  and  which  was  obviously  flushed  by  buckets  of 
water  being  poured  into  it.  Rats  and  other  vermin  in 
fested  this,  and  it  gave  off  an  unpleasant  odor  which 
filled  the  cell.  The  floor  was  of  stone.  Cowperwood's 
clear-seeing  eyes,  somewhat  touched  with  regret  at  his 
predicament,  took  it  all  in  at  a  glance.  He  also  took  in 
Mr.  Chapin,  the  homely,  good-natured  cell  overseer  whom 
he  now  saw  for  the  first  time — a  large,  heavy,  lumbering 
man,  rather  dusty  and  misshapen-looking,  whose  uniform 
did  not  fit  him  well,  and  whose  manner  of  standing  made 

691 


THE    FINANCIER 

him  look  as  though  he  would  much  prefer  to  sit  down. 
He  was  obviously  bulky,  but  not  strong,  having  somewhat 
of  a  paunch,  and  a  kindly  face  covered  with  a  short 
growth,  of  grayish-brown  whiskers.  His  hair  was  cut 
badly  and  stuck  out  in  odd  strings  or  wisps  from  under 
neath  his  big  cap.  Nevertheless,  Cowperwood  was  not 
at  all  unfavorably  impressed — quite  the  contrary — and  he 
felt  at  once  that  this  man  might  be  more  considerate  of 
him  than  the  others  had  been.  He  hoped  so,  anyhow. 
He  did  not  know  that  he  was  in  the  presence  of  the  over 
seer  of  the  "manners  squad,"  who  would  have  him  in 
charge  for  two  weeks  only,  instructing  him  in  the  rules  of 
the  prison,  and  that  he  was  only  one  of  twenty-six,  all 
told,  who  were  in  Chapin's  care. 

Cowperwood  looked  around  Chapin's  broad,  stooping 
shoulders,  which  were  those  of  a  man  of  fifty-eight,  to 
the  hard  cell  door,  which  was  barred  and  cross-barred 
with  great  round  rods  of  steel,  and  fastened  with  a  thick, 
highly  polished  lock.  He  saw  also  that  beyond  this  was 
a  heavy  wooden  door,  which  could  shut  him  in  even 
more  completely  than  the  iron  one.  There  was  no  chance 
for  any  clear,  purifying  sunlight  here.  Cleanliness  de 
pended  entirely  on  whitewash,  soap  and  water  and 
sweeping,  which  in  turn  depended  on  the  prisoners  them 
selves.  The  thought  came  to  him  as  to  who  had  occupied 
this  cell  before  him,  and  where  he  had  gone.  And  also 
that  this  would  be  a  most  unsatisfactory  place  to  live  for 
any  length  of  time. 

Mr.  Chapin,  by  way  of  easy  introduction,  went  over  to 
Mr.  Cowperwood's  future  bed  and  seated  himself  on  it. 
He  pointed  to  the  hard  wooden  chair,  which  Cowper 
wood  drew  out  and  sat  on. 

"Well,  now  you're  here,  hain't  yuh?"  asked  Mr. 
Chapin,  familiarly,  for  he  was  an  unlettered  man,  gen 
erously  disposed,  of  long  experience  with  criminals,  and 
inclined,  as  Cowperwood  had  judged  by  his  voice  and  his 
big  hand,  to  deal  kindly  with  them.  It  was  so  plain 

692 


THE    FINANCIER 

to  Cowperwood  that  in  the  sphere  to  which  he  himself  be 
longed  Chapin  was  a  man  whom  he  might  employ  as  a 
gardener  or  workman  of  some  kind,  never  anything  more, 
but  that  down  here  he  was  a  genial,  good-natured  lord. 
Age  and  a  naturally  kindly  temperament  and  a  form  of  re 
ligious  belief — Quakerism — had  inclined  him  to  be  mer 
ciful,  and  yet  his  official  duties,  as  Cowperwood  later 
found  out,  seemed  to  have  led  him  to  the  conclusion  that 
most  criminals  were  innately  bad.  Like  Mr.  Kendall,  he 
regarded  them  as  weaklings  and  ne'er-do-wells  with  evil 
streaks  in  them,  and  in  the  main  he  was  not  mistaken. 
Yet  he  could  not  help  being  what  he  was,  a  fatherly,  kindly 
old  man,  having  faith  in  those  shibboleths  of  the  weak 
and  inexperienced  mentally — human  justice  and  human 
decency. 

"Yes,  I'm  here,  Mr.  Chapin,"  Cowperwood  replied, 
simply,  remembering  his  name  from  the  attendant,  and 
flattering  the  keeper  by  the  use  of  it. 

To  old  Chapin  the  situation  was  more  or  less  puzzling. 
This  was  the  famous  Frank  A.  Cowperwood  whom  he 
had  read  about,  the  noted  banker  and  treasury-looter. 
He  and  his  co-partner  in  crime,  Stener,  were  destined 
to  serve,  as  he  had  read,  comparatively  long  terms  here. 
Five  hundred  thousand  dollars  was  a  large  sum  of  money 
in  those  days,  much  more  to  Mr.  Chapin  than  five  million 
would  have  been  forty  years  later.  He  was  awed  by  the 
thought  of  what  had  become  of  it — how  Cowperwood 
managed  to  do  all  the  things  the  papers  had  said  he 
had  done.  He  had  a  little  formula  of  questions  which 
he  usually  went  through  with  each  new  prisoner  — 
asking  him  if  he  was  sorry  now  for  the  crime  he  had 
committed,  if  he  meant  to  do  better  with  a  new  chance, 
if  his  father  and  mother  were  alive,  etc.;  and  by  the 
manner  in  which  they  answered  these  questions — simply, 
regretfully,  defiantly,  or  otherwise — he  judged  whether 
they  were  being  adequately  punished  or  not.  To  him 
all  prisoners  who  came  here  were  guilty;  there  was  no 

693 


THE    FINANCIER 

doubt  of  that.  He  had  great  faith  in  the  machinery  of 
justice.  If  men  were  punished,  it  was  a  thousand  to  one 
that  they  deserved  to  be.  But  in  the  case  of  men  like 
Cowperwood  he  could  not  understand  how  they  had  come 
to  do  the  things  with  which  they  were  charged.  He 
could  not  talk  to  Cowperwood  as  he  would  to  the  average 
second-story  burglar,  store-looter,  pickpocket,  and  plain 
cheap  thief  and  swindler,  of  whom  there  were  so  many. 
Yet  he  scarcely  knew  how  else  to  talk. 

"Well,  now,"  he  went  on,  looking  at  Cowperwood  in 
a  quizzical,  uncertain  way,  while  the  latter  eyed  him  in 
an  attempt  to  appear  interested  and  docile  without  at 
the  sarne  time  appearing  amused  or  superior,  "I  don't 
suppose  you  ever  thought  you'd  get  to  a  place  like  this, 
did  you,  Mr.  Cowperwood?" 

"I  never  did,"  replied  Frank,  simply.  "I  wouldn't 
have  believed  that  I  could  have  arrived  here  a  few  months 
ago,  Mr.  Chapin.  I  don't  think  I  deserve  to  be  here 
now,  though  of  course  there  is  no  use  of  my  telling  you 
that." 

He  saw  that  old  Chapin  wanted  to  moralize  a  little, 
and  he  was  only  too  glad  to  fall  in  with  his  mood.  He 
would  soon  be  alone  with  no  one  to  talk  to  perhaps,  and 
if  a  sympathetic  understanding  could  be  reached  with 
this  man  now,  so  much  the  better.  Any  port  in  a  storm; 
any  straw  to  a  drowning  man. 

"Well,  no  doubt  all  of  us  makes  mistakes,"  continued 
Mr.  Chapin,  superiorly,  with  an  amusing  faith  in  his 
own  value  as  a  moral  guide  and  reformer.  "We  can't 
just  always  tell  how  the  plans  we  think  so  fine  are  coming 
out.  You're  here  now,  an'  I  suppose  you're  sorry  certain 
things  didn't  come  out  just  as  you  thought;  but  if  you 
had  a  chance  I  don't  suppose  you'd  try  to  do  just  as  you 
did  before,  would  yuh?" 

"No,  Mr.  Chapin,  I  wouldn't,  exactly,"  said  Cowper 
wood,  truly  enough,  "though  I  believed  I  was  right  in 
everything  I  did.  I  don't  think  legal  justice  has  really 

694 


THE    FINANCIER 

been  done  me."  In  spite  of  his  depressed  state  he  could 
not  suppress  a  whimsical  smile  over  the  old  man's  attitude. 

"Well,  that's  the  way,"  continued  Chapin,  meditatively, 
not  bothering  to  pay  any  attention  to  Cowperwood's 
thoughts,  but  following  his  own  very  carefully,  and 
scratching  his  grizzled  head  and  looking  genially  about. 
"Sometimes,  as  I  allers  says  to  some  of  these  here  young 
fellers  that  comes  in  here,  we  don't  know  as  much  as 
we  thinks  we  does.  We  forget  that  others  are  just  as 
smart  as  we  are,  and  that  there  are  allers  people  that 
are  watchin'  us  all  the  time.  These  here  courts  and  jails 
and  detectives — they  are  here  all  the  time,  and  they 
get  us.  I  gad" — Mr.  Chapin's  moral  version  of  "by 
God"-  -"they  do,  if  we  don't  behave." 

"Yes,"  Cowperwood  replied,  "that's  true  enough." 

"Well,"  said  the  old  man  after  a  time,  after  he  had 
made  a  few  more  solemn,  owl-like,  and  yet  well-intentioned 
remarks,  "now  here's  your  bed,  and  there's  your  chair, 
and  there's  your  wash-stand,  and  there's  your  water- 
closet.  Now  keep  'em  all  clean  and  use  'em  right." 
(You  would  have  thought  he  was  making  Cowperwood 
a  present  of  a  fortune.)  "You're  the  one's  got  to  make 
up  your  bed  every  mornin'  and  keep  your  floor  swept 
and  your  toilet  flushed  and  your  cell  clean.  There  hain't 
anybody  here'll  do  that  for  yuh.  You  want  to  do  all 
them  things  the  first  thing  in  the  mornin'  when  you  get 
up,  and  afterward  you'll  get  sumpin'  to  eat,  about  six- 
thirty.  You're  supposed  to  get  up  at  five-thirty." 

"Yes,  Mr.  Chapin,"  Cowperwood  said,  politely.  "You 
can  depend  on  me  to  do  all  those  things  promptly.  I 
don't  want  to  cause  you  any  annoyance.  I'll  do  whatever 
you  tell  me." 

"There  hain't  so  much  more,"  added  Chapin.  "You're 
supposed  to  wash  yourself  all  over  once  a  week,  an'  I'll 
give  you  a  clean  towel  for  that.  You  gotta  wash  this 
floor  up  every  Friday  mornin'."  Cowperwood  winced 
without  showing  it.  "You  kin  have  hot  water  for  that 

695 


THE    FI  NANCIER 

if  you  want  it.  I'll  have  one  of  the  runners  bring  it  to 
you.  An'  as  for  your  friends  and  relations" — he  got 
up  and  shook  himself  like  a  big  Newfoundland  dog. 
"You  gotta  wife,  hain't  yuh?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Cowperwood. 

"Well,  the  rules  here  are  that  your  wife  or  your  friends 
kin  come  to  see  you  once  in  three  months,  and  your 
lawyer — you  gotta  lawyer,  hain't  yuh?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  Cowperwood,  amused. 

"Well,  he  kin  come  every  week  or  so  if  he  likes — every 
day,  I  guess — there  hain't  no  rules  about  lawyers.  You 
kin  only  write  one  letter  once  in  three  months  yourself, 
an'  if  you  want  anything  like  tobaccer  or  the  like  o' 
that,  from  the  store-room,  you  gotta  sign  an  order  for 
it,  if  you  got  any  money  with  the  warden,  an'  then  I 
can  git  it  for  you." 

The  old  man  was  really  above  taking  small  tips  in  the 
shape  of  money.  He  was  a  hold-over  from  a  much  more 
severe  and  honest  regime,  but  subsequent  presents  or 
constant  flattery  were  not  amiss  in  making  him  kindly 
and  generous.  Cowperwood  read  him  accurately. 

"Very  well,  Mr.  Chapin;  I  understand,"  he  said,  get 
ting  up  as  the  old  man  did.  "I'll  do  exactly  as  you 
say." 

"Then  when  you  have  been  here  two  weeks,"  added 
Chapin,  rather  accidentally  (he  had  forgot  to  state  this 
to  Cowperwood  before),  "the  warden  '11  come  and  git 
yuh  and  give  yuh  yer  regular  cell  summers  down-stairs. 
Yuh  kin  make  up  yer  mind  by  that  time  what  y'u'd  like 
tuh  do,  what  y'u'd  like  to  work  at.  If  you  behave  your 
self  proper,  more'n  like  they'll  give  yuh  a  cell  with  a 
yard.  Yuh  never  can  tell." 

He  went  out,  locking  the  door  with  a  solemn  click; 
and  Cowperwood  stood  there,  a  little  more  depressed 
than  he  had  been,  because  of  this  latest  intelligence. 
Only  two  weeks,  and  then  he  would  be  transferred  from 
this  kindly  old  man's  care  to  another's,  whom  he  did 

696 


THE    FINANCIER 

not  know  and  with  whom  he  might  not  fare  so  well. 
He  had  forgotten  for  the  moment — in  his  pleasant  talk 
with  Chapin — his  shabby  prison  suit,  his  rough  under 
wear,  his  hard  shoes,  the  sickening  checker-board  cap  he 
had  on  his  head,  the  bad  odor  of  the  cell,  and  its  narrow 
ness.  Now  they  all  came  back  to  him  with  a  rush.  Here 
he  was  in  this  narrow  cell,  locked  in. 

"If  ever  you  want  me  for  anything — if  ye're  sick  er 
sumpin'  like  that,"  called  Chapin,  after  he  had  walked 
a  few  paces  away,  but  returning,  "we  have  a  signal  here 
of  our  own.  Just  hang  your  towel  out  through  these 
here  bars.  I'll  see  it,  and  I'll  stop  and  find  out  what 
yuh  want,  when  I'm  passin'." 

Cowperwood,  whose  spirits  had  sunk,  revived  for  the 
moment. 

"Yes,  sir,"  he  replied;  "thank  you,  Mr.  Chapin." 

The  old  man  walked  away,  and  Cowperwood  heard  his 
steps  dying  down  the  cement-paved  hall.  He  stood  and 
listened,  his  ears  being  greeted  occasionally  by  a  distant 
cough,  a  faint  scraping  of  some  one's  feet,  the  hum  or 
whir  of  some  machine,  or  the  iron  scratch  of  a  key  in  a 
lock.  None  of  the  noises  was  loud.  Rather  they  were 
all  faint  and  far  away.  He  went  over  and  looked  at 
the  bed,  which  was  not  very  clean,  and  without  linen, 
and  anything  but  wide  or  soft,  and  felt  it  curiously. 
He  was  sickened  by  the  thought  of  possible  vermin. 
How  could  he  tell?  The  one  chair  was  abominable. 
The  skylight  was  weak.  He  tried  to  think  of  himself  as 
becoming  accustomed  to  the  situation,  but  he  rediscovered 
the  offal  pot  in  one  corner,  and  that  discouraged  him. 
It  was  possible  that  rats  might  come  up  here — it  looked 
that  way.  No  pictures,  no  books,  no  scene,  no  person, 
no  space  to  walk — just  the  four  bare  walls  and  silence, 
which  would  probably  be  shut  in  tight  at  night  by  the 
thick  door.  What  a  horrible  fate ! 

He  sat  down  and  contemplated  his  situation.  So  here 
he  was  at  last  in  the  Eastern  Penitentiary,  and  doomed, 
23  697 


THE    FINANCIER 

according  to  the  judgment  of  the  politicians  (Butler 
among  others) ,  to  remain  here  four  long  years  and  longer. 
Stener,  it  suddenly  occurred  to  him,  was  probably  being 
put  through  the  same  process  he  had  just  gone  through. 
Poor  old  Stener!  What  a  fool  he  had  made  of  himself, 
all  told!  Nevertheless,  he  deserved  all  he  was  getting. 
Only  they  would  let  Stener  out.  Perhaps  already  they 
were  easing  his  punishment  in  some  way  that  he,  Cowper- 
wood,  did  not  know.  He  put  his  hand  to  his  chin,  thinking 
— his  business,  his  house,  his  friends,  his  family,  Aileen. 
He  felt  for  his  watch,  but  remembered  that  they  had 
taken  that.  There  was  no  way  of  telling  the  time.  Neither 
had  he  any  note-book,  pen,  or  pencil  with  which  to  amuse 
or  interest  himself.  He  had  had  nothing  to  eat  since 
morning.  Still,  that  mattered  little.  What  did  matter 
was  that  he  was  shut  up  here  tight  from  the  world,  quite 
alone,  quite  lonely,  without  knowing  what  time  it  was, 
and  that  he  could  not  attend  to  any  of  the  things  he 
ought  to  do.  Steger  would  probably  come  to  see  him  after 
a  while.  That  would  help  a  little.  It  was  a  strange  thing 
to  be  a  solitary  prisoner.  His  own  steps  and  movements 
sounded  so  loud.  He  walked  to  the  cell  door  and  looked 
out  through  the  thick  bars,  but  there  was  nothing  to  see 
— nothing  save  a  portion  of  two  cell  doors  opposite,  some 
thing  like  his  own.  He  came  back  and  sat  in  his  single 
chair,  meditating,  but,  getting  weary  of  that  finally, 
stretched  himself  on  the  dirty  prison  bed  to  try  it.  It  was 
not  uncomfortable  entirely.  He  got  up  after  a  while, 
however,  and  sat,  then  walked,  then  sat.  What  a 
narrow  place  to  walk,  he  thought.  This  was  terrible, 
horrible — something  like  a  living  tomb.  And  to  think 
he  should  be  here  now,  day  after  day  and  day  after  day, 
until — • 

Until  what? 

Until  the  governor  pardoned  him  or  his  time  was  up, 
or  his  fortune  eaten  away — or — 

So  he  cogitated  while  the  hours  slipped  by.  It  was 

698 


THE    FINANCIER 

nearly  five  o'clock  before  Steger  was  able  to  return, 
and  then  only  for  a  little  while.  He  had  been  arranging 
for  Cowperwood's  appearance  on  the  following  Thursday, 
Friday,  and  Monday  in  his  several  court  proceedings. 
When  he  was  gone,  however,  and  the  night  fell  and  Cow- 
perwood  had  to  trim  his  little,  shabby  oil-lamp  and  to  drink 
the  strong  tea  and  eat  the  rough,  poor  bread  made  of 
bran  and  white  flour,  which  was  shoved  to  him  through 
the  small  aperture  in  the  door  by  the  trencher  trusty 
who  was  accompanied  by  the  overseer  to  see  that  it  was 
done  properly  (trenchermen  shoving  great  carts  of  these 
delectable  supplies  about  to  the  cells),  he  really  felt  very 
bad.  The  center  wooden  door  of  his  cell  was  presently 
closed  and  locked  by  a  trusty  who  slammed  it  rudely 
and  said  no  word.  Nine  o'clock  would  be  sounded 
somewhere  by  a  great  bell,  he  understood,  when  his  smoky 
oil -lamp  would  have  to  be  put  out  promptly  and  he 
would  have  to  undress  and  go  to  bed.  There  were  pun 
ishments,  no  doubt,  for  infractions  of  these  rules — reduced 
rations,  the  straight-jacket,  stripes,  perhaps — he  scarcely 
knew  what.  He  felt  grim,  disconsolate,  weary.  He  had 
put  up  such  a  long,  unsatisfactory  fight.  After  washing 
the  heavy  stone  cup  and  tin  plate  for  holding  his  tea 
and  bread  at  his  hydrant,  he  took  off  the  sickening 
uniform  and  shoes  and  even  the  drawers  of  the  scratching 
underwear,  and,  going  to  his  bed,  stretched  himself 
wearily.  He  tried  to  make  himself  comfortable  between 
the  blankets — for  it  was  chill  here — but  it  was  of  little  use. 

"This  will  never  do,"  he  said  to  himself.  "This  will 
never  do.  I'm  not  sure  whether  I  can  stand  much  of 
this  or  not." 

Still  he  turned  his  face  to  the  wall,  and  after  several 
hours  sleep  eventually  came. 


CHAPTER  LXVIII 

THOSE  who  by  any  pleasing  courtesy  of  fortune, 
accident  of  birth,  inheritance,  or  the  wisdom  of 
parents  or  friends,  have  succeeded  in  avoiding  making 
that  anathema  of  the  prosperous  and  comfortable,  "a 
mess  of  their  lives,"  will  scarcely  understand  the  mood 
of  Cowperwood,  sitting  rather  gloomily  in  his  cell  these 
first  days,  wondering,  in  spite  of  his  great  ingenuity, 
what  was  to  become  of  him.  The  strongest  have  their 
hours  of  depression.  There  are  times  when  life  to  the 
greatest  brains — perhaps  mostly  to  the  greatest — takes 
on  a  somber  hue.  They  see  so  many  phases  of  its  dreary 
subtleties.  It  is  only  when  the  soul  of  man  has  been 
built  up  into  some  strange  self-confidence,  some  curious 
faith  in  its  own  powers,  based,  no  doubt,  on  the  actual 
presence  of  these  same  powers  subtly  involved  in  the 
body,  that  it  fronts  life  unflinchingly.  It  would  be  too 
much  to  say  that  Cowperwood's  mind  was  of  the  first  order. 
It  was  subtle  enough  in  all  conscience — and  involved, 
as  is  common  with  the  executively  great,  with  a  strong 
sense  of  personal  advancement.  It  was  a  big  mind, 
turning,  like  a  vast  searchlight,  a  glittering  ray  into 
many  a  dark  corner;  but  it  was  not  sufficiently  dis 
interested  to  search  the  ultimate  dark.  He  realized, 
in  a  way,  what  the  great  astronomers,  sociologists,  phi 
losophers,  chemists,  physicists,  and  physiologists  were 
meditating;  but  he  could  not  be  sure  in  his  own  mind 
that,  whatever  it  was,  it  was  important  for  him.  No 
doubt  life  held  strange  secrets.  Perhaps  it  was  essential 
that  somebody  should  investigate  them.  However  that 

700 


THE    FINANCIER 

might  be,  the  call  of  his  own  soul  was  in  another  direction. 
His  business  was  to  make  money — to  organize  something 
which  would  make  him  much  money,  or,  better  yet,  save 
the  organization  he  had  begun.  But  this,  as  he  now 
looked  upon  it,  was  almost  impossible.  It  had  been 
too  disarranged  and  complicated  by  evil  circumstances. 
He  might,  as  Steger  pointed  out  to  him,  string  out  these 
bankruptcy  proceedings  for  years,  tiring  out  one  creditor 
and  another,  but  in  the  meanwhile  the  properties  in 
volved  were  being  seriously  damaged.  Interest  charges 
on  his  unsatisfied  loans  were  making  heavy  inroads;  court 
costs  were  mounting  up;  and,  to  cap  it  all,  he  had  dis 
covered  with  Steger  that  there  were  a  number  of  creditors 
who  would  never  accept  anything  except  the  full  value 
of  their  claims.  These  were  the  ones  who  had  sold  out 
to  Butler,  and  incidentally  to  Mollenhauer.  His  one 
hope  now  was  to  save  what  he  could  by  compromise  a 
little  later,  and  to  build  up  some  sort  of  profitable  business 
through  Stephen  Wingate.  The  latter  was  coming  in  a 
day  or  two,  as  soon  as  Steger  had  made  some  working 
arrangement  for  him  with  Warden  Michael  Desmas — 
a  man  whom  Cowperwood  had  not  seen  as  yet,  but  who 
came  the  second  day  to  have  a  look  at  him. 

Desmas  was  a  big  man  physically — Irish  by  birth,  a 
politician  by  training — who  had  been  one  thing  and  an 
other  in  Philadelphia  from  a  policeman  in  his  early  days 
and  a  corporal  in  the  Civil  War  to  a  ward  captain  under 
Mollenhauer.  He  was  a  canny  man,  tall,  raw-boned, 
singularly  muscular-looking,  who  for  all  his  fifty-seven 
years  looked  as  though  he  could  give  a  splendid  account 
of  himself  in  a  physical  contest.  His  hands  were  big 
and  bony,  his  face  more  square  than  either  round  or 
long,  and  his  forehead  high.  He  had  a  vigorous  growth 
of  short-clipped,  iron-gray  hair  and  a  bristly  iron-gray 
mustache,  very  short;  keen,  intelligent  blue-gray  eyes; 
a  florid  complexion;  and  even-edged,  savage-looking  teeth, 
which  showed  the  least  bit  in  a  slightly  wolfish  way 

701 


THE    FINANCIER 

when  he  smiled.  He  was  really  not  as  hard  a  person 
as  he  looked  to  be;  nevertheless,  he  was  to  a  certain 
extent  hard,  and  on  occasions  savage.  He  was  quite 
ready  to  recognize  that  there  was  a  mental  and  social 
difference  between  prisoners,  and  that  now  and  then  one 
was  apt  to  appear  here  who,  with  or  without  political 
influences,  was  eminently  worthy  of  special  consider 
ation.  Seeing  that  the  prison  was  a  public  institu 
tion  apt  to  be  visited  at  any  time  by  lawyers,  detec 
tives,  doctors,  preachers,  propagandists,  and  the  public 
generally,  and  that  certain  rules  and  regulations  had  to 
be  enforced,  if  for  no  other  reason  than  to  keep  a  moral 
and  administrative  control  over  his  own  help,  it  was 
necessary  to  see  that  much  discipline,  system,  and  order 
were  maintained,  and  it  was  not  possible  to  be  too 
liberal  with  any  one.  There  were,  however,  exceptional 
cases — men  of  wealth  and  refinement,  victims  of  those 
occasional  uprisings  which  so  shocked  the  political  leaders 
generally — who  had  to  be  looked  after  in  a  friendly  way. 

Desmas,  not  unlike  all  the  other  politicians,  was  quite 
aware  of  the  history  of  Cowperwood  and  Stener.  He  knew 
how  money  had  always  been  illegitimately  loaned,  and 
that  the  Chicago  fire  was  the  thing  which  had  really 
brought  about  Cowperwood's  downfall.  The  politicians, 
Strobik  and  others,  had  already  given  him  warning  that 
Stener,  because  of  his  past  services  to  the  community, 
was  to  be  treated  with  special  consideration.  Not  so  much 
was  said  about  Cowperwood,  although  they  did  admit  in 
conversation  with  Desmas  that  his  lot  was  rather  hard. 

"Butler  is  down  on  him,"  Strobik  said  to  Desmas, 
on  one  occasion.  "It's  that  girl  of  his  that's  at  the  bottom 
of  it  all.  If  you  listened  to  Butler  you'd  feed  him  on 
bread  and  water,  but  he  isn't  a  bad  fellow.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  if  George  had  had  any  sense  Cowperwood  wouldn't 
be  where  he  is  to-day.  But  the  big  fellows  wouldn't 
let  Stener  alone.  They  wouldn't  let  him  give  Cowper 
wood  any  money." 

702 


THE    FINANCIER     . 

Although  Strobik  had  been  one  of  those  who  tinder 
pressure  from  Mollenhauer  had  advised  Stener  not  to 
let  Cowperwood  have  any  more  money,  yet  here  he 
was  pointing  out  the  folly  of  the  victim's  course.  Trie- 
thought  of  the  inconsistency  involved  did  not  trouble 
him  in  the  least. 

Desmas,  who  had  been  speculating  on  how  he  would 
have  to  treat  Cowperwood  and  Stener,  decided  that  he 
might  have  to  make  a  difference  between  them.  If 
Cowperwood  were  persona  non  grata  to  the  "Big  Three," 
it  might  be  necessary  to  be  indifferent  to  him,  or  at  least 
slow  in  extending  him  any  special  favors.  For  Stener 
a  good  chair,  clean  linen,  special  cutlery  and  dishes, 
the  daily  papers,  privileges  in  the  matter  of  mail,  the 
visits  of  friends,  and  the  like.  For  Cowperwood — well, 
he  would  have  to  look  at  Cowperwood  and  see  what  he 
thought.  The  politicians  might  not  want  him  to  be  nice. 
At  the  same  time,  Steger's  intercessions — which,  though 
tentative,  had  been  forcible — were  not  without  their 
effect  on  Desmas.  He  had  not  been  there  to  see  Cowper 
wood  when  he  came  into  the  prison,  and  had  decided 
to  wait  some  hours  until  the  rigors  of  the  place  had  had 
time  to  soak  in.  But  the  morning  after  Cowperwood's 
entrance  the  warden  received  a  letter  from  Terrence 
Relihan,  the  Harrisburg  potentate,  indicating  that  any 
kindness  shown  to  Mr.  Cowperwood  would  be  duly  ap 
preciated  by  him.  Upon  the  receipt  of  this  letter  Desmas 
went  up  into  Overseer  Chapin's  block  and  looked  through 
Cowperwood's  iron  door.  On  the  way  he  had  a  brief 
talk  with  Chapin,  who  told  him  what  a  nice  man  he 
thought  Cowperwood  was. 

Desmas  had  never  seen  Cowperwood  in  his  life  before, 
but  in  spite  of  the  shabby  uniform,  the  clog  shoes,  the 
cheap  shirt,  and  the  wretched  cell,  he  was  impressed. 
Instead  of  the  weak,  anemic  body  and  the  shifty  eyes  of 
the  average  prisoner,  he  saw  a  man  whose  form  was 
vigorously  erect  and  whose  well-shaped  head,  rising 

703 


THE    FINANCIER 

above  his  wretched  clothes,  betokened  the  spirit  which 
no  conditions  can  demean.  He  lifted  his  head  when  Des- 
mas  appeared,  glad  that  any  form  should  have  appeared 
.at  his  door,  and  looked  at  him  with  large,  clear,  examin 
ing  eyes — those  eyes  that  in  the  past  had  inspired  so  much 
confidence  and  surety  in  all  those  who  had  known  him. 
Desmas  was  interested  on  the  moment.  Compared  with 
Stener,  whom  he  knew  in  the  past  and  whom  he  had  met 
on  his  entry,  this  man  was  a  force,  a  power.  Say  what 
you  will,  one  forceful  man  inherently  respects  another. 
They  are  like  wolves  and  tigers  that  run  best  in  packs. 
They  may  eat  one  another  ultimately,  but  never  so  long 
as  there  is  anything  else  to  eat. 

Cowperwood,  never  having  seen  Desmas,  did  not  know 
who  was  looking  at  him,  but  on  the  instant  he  suspected 
it  must  be  the  warden.  "This  isn't  Mr.  Desmas,  is  it?" 
he  asked,  courteously  and  pleasantly.  The  glitter  of  his 
past  estate  still  radiated  in  his  manner. 

"Yes,  sir,  I'm  the  man.  These  rooms  are  not  as  com 
fortable  as  they  might  be,  are  they?"  The  warden's 
even  teeth  showed  in  a  friendly  yet  wolfish  way. 

"They  certainly  are  not,  Mr.  Desmas,"  replied  Cowper 
wood,  standing  very  erect  and  soldier-like.  "I  didn't 
imagine  I  was  coming  to  a  hotel,  however."  He  smiled. 

"There  isn't  anything  special  I  can  do  for  you,  is 
there?"  asked  Desmas,  curiously.  "I've  been  talking 
to  your  lawyer." 

"I  don't  want  to  be  asking  anything,  Warden,  which 
you  cannot  reasonably  give,"  returned  Cowperwood, 
politely.  "There  are  a  few  things  I  would  change  if  I 
could.  I  wish  I  might  have  sheets  for  my  bed,  and  I 
could  afford  better  underwear  if  you  would  let  me  wear 
it.  This  that  I  have  on  annoys  me  a  great  deal." 

"They're  not  the  best  wool,  that's  true  enough,"  re 
plied  Desmas,  solemnly.  "They're  made  for  the  State 
out  here  in  Pennsylvania  somewhere.  I  suppose  there's 
no  objection  to  your  wearing  your  own  underwear  if  you 

704 


THE    FINANCIER 

want  to.  I'll  see  about  that.  And  the  sheets,  too.  We 
might  let  you  use  them  if  you  have  them.  We'll  have 
to  go  a  little  slow  about  this.  There  are  a  lot  of  people 
that  take  a  special  interest  in  showing  the  warden  how  to 
tend  to  his  business."  His  even  teeth  showed  in  the 
slightest  way  again,  grimly,  and  his  eyes  wrinkled  at  the 
outer  edges.  You  have  seen  a  wolf  or  collie  dog  grin, 
perhaps.  Mr.  Desmas  looked  not  unlike  that. 

"I'm  certainly  very  much  obliged  to  you,  Mr.  Desmas," 
said  Cowperwood,  feelingly. 

"That's  all  right,"  said  Desmas,  now  that  he  had  gone 
so  far  as  to  be  friendly  to  Cowperwood.  "  I  can't  promise 
to  do  much.  Prison  rules  are  prison  rules.  There  are 
some  things  that  can  be  done,  because  it's  the  rule  to  do 
them  for  other  men  when  they  behave  themselves.  You 
can  have  a  better  chair  than  that,  possibly,  and  something 
to  read.  If  you're  in  business  yet,  I  wouldn't  want  to 
do  anything  to  stop  that.  We  can't  have  people  running 
in  and  out  of  here  every  fifteen  minutes,  and  you  can't 
turn  a  cell  into  a  business  office — that's  not  possible.  It 
would  break  up  the  order  of  the  place.  Still,  there's  no 
reason  why  you  shouldn't  see  some  of  your  friends  now 
and  then.  As  for  your  mail — well,  that  will  have  to  be 
opened  in  the  ordinary  way  for  the  time  being,  anyhow. 
I'll  have  to  see  about  that.  I  can't  promise  too  much. 
You'll  have  to  wait  until  you  come  out  of  this  block  and 
down-stairs.  Some  of  the  cells  have  a  yard  there;  if 
there  are  any  empty—  The  warden  cocked  his  eye  wisely, 
and  Cowperwood  saw  that  his  lot  was  not  to  be  as  bad 
as  he  had  anticipated — though  bad  enough.  The  war 
den  spoke  to  him  about  the  different  trades  he  might  fol 
low,  and  asked  him  to  think  about  the  one  he  would 
prefer.  "You  want  to  have  something  to  keep  your 
hands  busy,  whatever  else  you  want.  You'll  find  you'll 
need  that.  They  all  want  to  work." 

Cowperwood  thanked  Desmas  profusely.  The  horror 
of  idleness  in  silence  and  in  a  cell  scarcely  large  enough  to 

705 


THE    FINANCIER 

turn  around  in  comfortably  had  already  begun  to  creep 
over  him,  and  the  thought  of  being  able  to  see  Wingate  and 
Steger  frequently,  and  to  have  his  mail  reach  him,  after 
a  time,  untampered  with,  was  a  great  relief.  He  was  to 
have  his  own  underwear,  silk  and  wool — thank  God ! — and 
perhaps  they  would  let  him  take  off  these  shoes  after 
a  while.  With  these  modifications  and  a  trade,  and  per 
haps  the  little  yard  which  Desmas  had  referred  to,  his 
life  would  be,  if  not  ideal,  at  least  tolerable.  The  prison 
was  a  prison  still,  but  it  looked  as  though  it  might  not 
be  so  much  of  a  terror  to  him  as  to  some  other  people. 
.  During  the  two  weeks  in  which  Cowperwood  was  in 
the  "manners  squad,"  in  care  of  Mr.  Chapin,  he  learned 
nearly  as  much  as  he  ever  learned  of  the  general  nature 
of  prison  life;  for  this  was  not  an  ordinary  penitentiary 
in  the  sense  that  the  prison  yard,  the  prison  squad,  the 
prison  lock-step,  the  prison  dining-room,  and  prison  as 
sociated  labor  make  the  ordinary  penitentiary.  There 
was,  for  him  and  for  the  very  large  majority  of  those  con 
fined  there,  no  general  prison  life  whatsoever.  The  large 
majority  were  supposed  to  work  silently  in  their  cells  at 
the  particular  tasks  assigned  them,  and  not  to  know  any 
thing  of  the  remainder  of  the  life  which  went  on  around 
them,  the  rule  of  this  prison  being  solitary  confinement, 
and  few  being  permitted  to  work  at  the  limited  number  of 
outside  menial  tasks  provided.  Old  Chapin,  with  whom 
Cowperwood  became  quite  friendly  within  a  few  days,  be 
cause  of  his  subtle  courtesy  to  the  old  man,  informed  him 
that  not  more  than  seventy-five  of  the  four  hundred  pris 
oners  confined  here  were  so  employed,  and  not  all  of 
these  regularly — cooking,  gardening  in  season,  milling,  and 
general  cleaning  being  the  only  avenues  of  escape  from 
solitude.  Even  they  were  strictly  forbidden  to  talk,  and 
although  they  did  not  have  to  wear  the  objectionable 
hood  when  actually  employed,  they  were  supposed  to 
wear  it  in  going  to  and  from  their  work.  Cowperwood 
saw  them  occasionally  tramping  by  his  cell  door,  and  it 

706 


THE    FINANCIER 

struck  him  as  strange,  grim,  uncanny.  He  wished  sin 
cerely  that  he  were  to  be  under  old  Chapin  permanently; 
but  it  was  not  to  be.  His  two  weeks  soon  passed — drear 
ily  enough  in  all  conscience,  but  they  passed,  interlaced 
with  his  few  commonplace  tasks  of  bed-making,  floor- 
sweeping,  dressing,  eating,  undressing,  rising  at  five- 
thirty,  and  retiring  at  nine,  washing  his  several  dishes 
after  each  meal,  etc.  The  food,  he  found,  was  such  a  fall 
from  that  to  which  he  had  been  accustomed  that  he 
thought  he  would  never  get  used  to  it.  Breakfast,  as  has 
been  said,  was  at  six-thirty,  and  consisted  of  coarse  black 
bread  made  of  bran  and  some  white  flour,  and  served  with 
black  coffee.  Dinner  was  at  eleven-thirty,  and  consisted 
of  bean  or  vegetable  soup,  with  some  coarse  meat  in  it, 
and  the  same  bread.  Supper  was  at  six,  of  tea  and  bread, 
very  strong  tea  and  the  same  bread — no  butter,  no  milk, 
no  sugar.  Cowperwood  did  not  smoke,  so  the  small 
allowance  of  tobacco  which  was  permitted  was  without 
value  to  him.  Steger  called  in  every  day  for  two  or  three 
weeks,  until  Cowperwood  had  become  used  to  his  condi 
tion;  and  after  the  second  day,  when  Warden  Desmas 
called  on  him,  Stephen  Wingate,  as  his  new  business  asso 
ciate,  was  permitted  to  see  him  also — once  every  day,  if 
he  wished,  Desmas  stated,  though  the  latter  felt  he  was 
stretching  a  point  in  permitting  this  so  soon.  Both  of 
these  visits  rarely  occupied  more  than  an  hour,  or  an  hour 
and  a  half,  and  after  that  the  day  was  long.  Cowperwood 
was  taken  out  on  several  days  on  a  court  order,  between 
nine  and  five,  to  testify  in  the  bankruptcy  proceedings 
against  him,  which  caused  the  time  in  the  beginning  to 
pass  quickly. 


CHAPTER  LXIX 

THE  day  of  Cowperwood's  sentence,  in  so  far  as  the 
newspapers  and  the  public  in  Philadelphia  were  con 
cerned,  was  one  of  great  moment.  Civic  virtue  evi 
dently  had  triumphed;  the  malefactors  who  had  preyed 
on  the  city's  innocence  were  properly  punished.  It 
mattered  little  that  the  new  city  treasurer,  recently  in 
ducted  into  office,  was  already  about  the  work  of  loaning 
money  as  Stener  had  loaned  it — the  interest  to  go  to  him 
personally,  or  to  those  who  were  close  to  him.  Butler, 
Mollenhauer,  and  Simpson  knew  that  this  would  be  done; 
they  were  quite  as  ready  to  borrow  money  from  the  city 
treasurer  at  this  rate  of  interest — two  and  one-half  per 
cent. — as  any  one  else,  when  they  needed  it.  Cowper 
wood's  crime,  as  he  often  said  afterward,  was  the  Chicago 
fire.  However,  ostensible  justice  had  been  done,  and  such 
varied  personalities  as  Butler,  Skelton  C.  Wheat,  various 
minor  newspaper  editors,  and  a  number  of  Cowperwood's 
rivals  in  business  were  glad  that  he  was  gone — out  of  the 
way.  It  was  curious,  once  he  was  in  prison,  safely  shut 
from  the  world  for  a  period  of  years  apparently,  how 
quickly  all  thought  of  assisting  him,  in  so  far  as  his  finances 
were  concerned,  departed  from  the  minds  of  those  who 
had  been  most  friendly.  He  was  done,  through — so  most 
of  the  financiers  thought — the  best  of  them.  The  only 
thing  they  could  do  now  would  be  to  use  their  influence 
to  get  him  out  and  possibly  loan  him  sufficient  money 
to  get  a  start  in  a  small  way  again  some  time;  how  soon, 
they  could  not  guess.  Beyond  that  there  was  nothing. 
He  would  never  really  be  of  any  great  importance  to  any 

708 


THE    FINANCIER 

one  any  more.  It  was  very  sad,  very  tragic,  if  you  will, 
but  he  was  gone — his  place  knew  him  not. 

"A  bright  young  man,  that,"  observed  President 
Davison  of  the  Girard  National,  on  reading  of  Cowper- 
wood's  sentence  and  incarceration.  "Too  bad!  Too  bad! 
He  made  a  great  mistake." 

It  did  not  occur  to  Davison  that  there  was  anything 
so  radically  wrong  in  Cowperwood  being  made  a  political 
scapegoat.  He,  too,  had  heard  of  Aileen.  Perhaps,  after 
all,  Cowperwood  was  merely  being  properly  punished 
for  a  general  tendency  to  play  fast  and  loose.  Anyhow, 
he  was  found  out,  caught;  and  that,  after  all,  was  the 
principal  evil.  Walter  Leigh  reflected,  as  did  Arthur 
Rivers  and  others,  that  after  this,  really,  they  would 
scarcely  be  permitted  to  know  Cowperwood  socially.  They 
could  speak  to  him,  appear  friendly,  do  a  little  business, 
perhaps — but  really,  you  know,  an  ex-convict !  It  couldn't 
be  expected.  Cowperwood,  in  so  far  as  his  old  social  life 
was  concerned,  was  a  pariah,  and  he  himself  knew  it. 

Only  his  parents,  Aileen,  and  his  wife — the  latter  with 
mingled  feelings  of  resentment  and  sorrow — really  missed 
him.  Aileen,  because  of  her  great  passion  for  him,  was 
really  suffering  most  of  all.  She  returned  direct  to  her 
room  after  the  sentence,  and,  locking  the  door,  sat  down 
and  cried  bitterly.  Four  years  and  six  months!  she 
thought.  If  he  did  not  get  out  before  then  she  would  be 
nearing  twenty-nine  and  he  would  be  nearing  forty. 
Would  he  want  her  then?  Would  she  be  so  nice?  And 
would  nearly  five  years  change  his  point  of  view?  He 
would  have  to  wear  a  convict  suit  all  that  time,  and  be 
known  as  a  convict  forever  after.  It  was  hard  to  think 
about,  but  she  had  to  face  it  all;  and  petted  as  she  had 
always  been  by  her  family,  there  was  no  one  to  whom  she 
could  run  with  this  sorrow.  Her  mother  would  have 
sympathized  with  her  greatly  if  she  had  known,  and  Butler 
also  if  he  had  not  been  opposed  to  Cowperwood,  but  they 
could  not  know.  So  she  looked  out  of  the  window  at  the 

709 


THE    FINANCIER 

hard  street,  where  the  snow  had  begun  to  fall  afresh,  and 
wiped  her  red  eyes  and  her  quivering  lips.  Then  she 
turned  to  her  mirror  to  compose  her  face,  determined  to 
cling  to  Frank  whatever  happened  and  to  help  him  all 
she  could. 

The  day  after  Cowperwood's  incarceration  Aileen  had 
driven  out  and  looked  at  the  grim  gray  walls  of  the  peni 
tentiary,  which  impressed  her  greatly.  Knowing  nothing 
absolutely  of  the  vast  and  complicated  process  of  law  and 
penal  servitude,  it  seemed  especially  terrible  to  her. 
What  might  not  they  be  doing  to  her  Frank  ?  She  drove 
home,  determined  to  see  him;  but  as  he  had  originally 
told  her  that  visiting  days  were  only  once  in  three 
months,  and  that  he  would  have  to  write  her  when  the 
next  one  was,  or  when  she  could  come,  or  when  he  could 
see  her  on  the  outside,  she  scarcely  knew  what  to  do. 
Secrecy  was  the  thing. 

The  day  after  his  entrance  to  the  prison  Cowperwood 
had  had  a  letter  from  her,  describing  the  drive  she  had 
taken  past  the  prison  on  the  stormy  afternoon  before — 
the  terror  of  the  thought  that  he  was  behind  those  grim 
gray  walls — and  declaring  her  determination  to  see  him 
soon.  The  next  day  he  wrote  her  a  letter  in  reply,  which 
he  gave  to  Wingate  to  mail.  It  ran: 

DEAR  PETTY, — I  fancy  you  are  a  little  downhearted  to  think  I 
cannot  be  with  you  any  more  soon,  but  you  mustn't  be.  I  suppose 
you  read  all  about  the  sentence  in  the  paper.  I  came  out  here  yes 
terday  morning — nearly  noon.  If  I  had  time,  dearest,  I'd  write 
you  a  long  letter  describing  the  situation  so  as  to  ease  your  mind; 
but  I  haven't.  It's  against  the  rules,  and  I  am  really  doing  this 
secretly.  I'm  here,  though,  safe  enough,  and  wish  I  were  out,  of 
course.  Sweetest,  you  must  be  careful  how  you  try  to  see  me.  You 
can't  do  me  much  service  outside  of  cheering  me  up,  and  you  may 
do  yourself  great  harm.  Sometimes,  now,  I  think  I  have  done  you 
much  more  harm  than  I  can  ever  make  up  to  you  for.  I  am  to  be 
in  the  Court  of  Special  Pleas,  Sixth  and  Chestnut,  on  Friday  at  two 
o'clock;  but  you  cannot  see  me  there.  I'll  be  out  in  charge  of  my 
counsel.  You  must  be  careful.  Perhaps  you'll  think  better,  and 
not  come  here. 

710 


THE    FINANCIER 

This  last  touch  was  one  of  pure  gloom,  the  first  Cowper- 
wood  had  ever  introduced  into  their  relationship,  for  he 
had  never  been  in  a  position  where  a  gloomy  thought 
could  intrude  itself  in  regard  to  her.  Hitherto  he  had 
been  in  the  position  of  the  superior  being,  the  one  who 
was  being  sought — although  Aileen  was  and  had  been 
well  worth  seeking — and  he  had  thought  that  he  might 
escape  unscathed,  and  so  grow  in  dignity  and  power 4mtil 
she  might  not  possibly  be  worthy  of  him  any  longer. 
He  had  had  that  thought.  But  here,  in  stripes,  it  was  a 
different  matter.  Aileen  *s  position,  reduced  in  value  as 
it  was  by  her  long,  ardent  relationship  with  him,  was  now, 
nevertheless,  superior,  to  his — apparently  so.  She  ought 
not  to  become  a  convict's  bride.  She  ought  not  to  want 
to,  and  she  might  not  want  to,  for  all  he  knew;  she  might 
change  her  mind.  She  ought  not  to  wait  for  him.  Her  life 
was  not  yet  ruined.  The  public  did  not  know,  so  he 
thought — not  generally,  anyhow — that  she  had  been  his 
mistress.  She  might  marry.  Did  he  not  owe  it  to  her, 
to  a  sense  of  fair  play  in  himself,  to  ask  her  to  give  him 
up,  or  at  least  think  over  the  wisdom  of  doing  so? 

He  did  her  the  justice  to  believe  that  she  would  not 
want  to  give  him  up;  and  in  his  position,  however  harm 
ful  it  might  be  to  her,  it  was  an  advantage,  a  connecting 
link  with  the  finest  period  of  his  past  life,  to  have  her 
continue  to  love  him.  He  could  not,  however,  scribbling 
this  note  in  his  cell  in  Wingate's  presence,  and  giving  it 
to  him  to  mail  (Overseer  Chapin  was  kindly  keeping  a 
respectful  distance,  though  he  was  supposed  to  be  pres 
ent),  refrain  from  adding,  at  the  last  moment,  this  little 
touch  of  doubt  which,  when  she  read  it,  struck  Aileen 
to  the  heart.  She  read  it  as  gloom  on  his  part — great 
depression.  The  penitentiary  was  really  breaking  his 
spirit  then,  and  he  had  held  up  so  courageously  so  long. 
She  was  madly  eager  to  get  to  him,  to  console  him,  even 
though  it  was  difficult,  perilous.  Her  father's  possible 
future  discoveries  in  connection  with  her  did  not  interest 

711 


THE    FINANCIER 

her.  He  had  done  his  worst.  Since  the  day  she  had  seen 
Frank  convicted  she  had  turned  on  her  father  once  for 
all.  She  could  not  love  him  any  more — she  knew  that. 
Frank  Cowperwood  was  superior.  The  life  he  had  offered 
her  was  better  than  her  home  life,  and  he  need  not  have 
gone  to  the  penitentiary,  she  reasoned,  if  it  had  not  been 
for  old  Butler.  That  might  be  good  wrath;  but  it  cer 
tainly  was  not  kindness,  humanity,  religion.  Her  father 
could  go  to  the  devil  now.  She  did  not  love  him  any 
more.  There  was  an  end  of  it.  In  spite  of  Cowperwood's 
incarceration  and  her  feeling  that  she  might  be  exposed 
publicly  by  the  reckless  desire  which  still  drew  her  to 
him,  she  realized  in  the  back  of  her  feverish  brain  that 
nothing  but  marriage  with  him  would  save  her  now.  Her 
future  position,  whatever  it  was  to  be,  depended  on  him. 
She  was  too  old,  too  enlightened  by  him  to  care  for  any 
one  but  him.  He  must  save  her. 

In  regard  to  visits  from  the  various  members  of  his 
family — his  mother  and  father,  his  brother,  his  wife,  and 
his  sister — Cowperwood  made  it  plain  to  them  on  one  of  the 
days  on  which  he  was  out  attending  a  bankruptcy  hearing 
that  even  providing  it  could  be  arranged  he  did  not  think 
they  should  come  oftener  than  once  in  three  months, 
unless  he  wrote  them  or  sent  word  by  Steger.  He  expected 
to  be  coming  out  from  time  to  time  yet  on  court  orders. 
He  really  did  not  care  to  ,see  much  of  any  of  them  at 
present.  He  was  sick  of  the  whole  social  scheme  of 
things.  He  wanted  to  be  rid  of  the  turmoil  he  had  been 
in,  seeing  it  had  proved  so  useless.  He  had  used  nearly 
fifteen  thousand  dollars  thus  far  in  defending  himself — 
court  costs,  family  maintenance,  Steger,  etc.;  but  he  did 
not  mind  that.  He  expected  to  make  some  little  money 
working  through  Wingate.  His  family  were  not  utterly 
without  funds,  sufficient  to  live  in  a  small  way.  He  had 
advised  them  to  take  very  commonplace  houses,  which 
they  did — his  mother  and  father  and  brothers  and  sister 
moving  to  a  three-story  brick  of  about  the  caliber  of  the 

712 


THE    FINANCIER 

old  Buttonwood  Street  house,  and  his  wife  to  a  smaller, 
less  expensive  two-story  one  on  North  Twenty-first  Street, 
near  the  penitentiary,  not  unlike  that  of  the  Calligans'  on 
Cherry  Street,  a  portion  of  the  money  saved  out  of  the 
thirty-five  thousand  dollars  extracted  from  Stener  under 
false  pretenses  aiding  to  sustain  it.  It  was  a  terrible 
descent  from  the  Girard  Avenue  mansion  for  the  elder 
Cowperwood;  for  here  was  none  of  the  furniture  which 
characterized  the  other  somewhat  gorgeous  domicile — 
merely  store-bought,  ready-made  furniture,  and  neat  but 
cheap  hangings  and  fixtures  generally.  The  assignees, 
to  whom  all  Cowperwood's  personal  property  belonged, 
and  to  whom  Cowperwood,  the  elder,  had  surrendered  all 
his  holdings,  would  not  permit  anything  of  importance  to 
be  retained.  It  all  had  to  be  sold  for  the  benefit  of 
creditors.  A  few  very  small  things,  but  only  a  few,  had 
been  kept,  as  everything  had  been  inventoried  some  time 
before.  One  of  the  things  which  old  Cowperwood  wanted 
was  the  private  desk  which  Frank  had  had  designed  for 
him;  but  as  it  was  valued  at  one  hundred  and  fifteen  dol 
lars  and  could  not  be  relinquished  by  the  sheriff  except  on 
payment  of  that  sum,  or  by  auction,  and  as  Henry  Cow 
perwood  had  no  such  sum  to  spare,  he  had  to  let  the 
desk  go.  There  were  many  things  they  all  wanted,  and 
Anna  Adelaide  had  literally  purloined  a  few;  but  it  was 
dangerous,  and  she  did  not  admit  the  matter  to  her 
parents  until  long  afterward. 

There  came  a  day  when  the  two  houses  in  Girard  Avenue 
were  the  scene  of  a  sheriff's  sale,  during  which  the  general 
public,  without  let  or  hindrance,  were  permitted  to  tramp 
through  the  rooms  which  Cowperwood  and  his  relatives 
had  occupied,  and  examine  all  the  things  which  had  con 
stituted  his  private  world.  The  pictures,  statuary,  and 
objects  of  art  generally,  which  he  had  spent  years  in 
collecting,  were  now  scrutinized  in  detail  and  knocked 
down  to  the  highest  bidder.  Considerable  fame  had  at 
tached  to  Cowperwood's  activities  in  this  field,  owing  in  the 


THE    FINANCIER 

first  place  to  the  real  merit  of  what  he  had  brought  together, 
and  in  the  next  place  to  the  enthusiastic  comment  of  such 
men  as  Wilton  Ellsworth,  Fletcher  Gray,  Gordon  Strake — 
architects  and  art  dealers  whose  judgment  and  taste  were 
considered  important  in  Philadelphia.  In  their  social 
meanderings  these  men  had  described  Cowperwood  as 
an  enthusiastic  collector  and  a  man  of  real  taste.  Now 
in  this  hour  of  disintegration,  many  who  had  known  him 
socially  as  well  as  commercially  and  who  appreciated  his 
innate  force,  were  here  to  see  what  the  sheriff,  acting 
for  his  creditors,  had  to  offer.  All  of  these  lovely  things 
by  which  he  had  set  great  store — small  bronzes,  represent 
ative  of  the  best  period  of  the  Italian  Renaissance ;  bits 
of  Venetian  glass  which  he  had  collected  with  great  care — 
a  full  curio  case;  statues  by  Powers,  Hosmer,  and  Thor- 
waldsen — things  which  would  have  been  smiled  at  thirty 
years  later,  but  which  were  of  high  value  then;  all  of 
his  pictures  by  representative  American  painters  from 
Gilbert  to  Eastman  Johnson,  together  with  a  few  speci 
mens  of  the  current  French  and  English  schools,  went  for 
a  song.  Art  judgment  in  Philadelphia  at  this  time  was 
not  exceedingly  high;  and  some  of  the  pictures,  for  lack 
of  appreciative  understanding,  were  disposed  of  at  much 
too  low  a  figure.  Gordon  Strake,  Fletcher  Gray,  and 
Wilton  Ellsworth  were  all  present  and  bought  liberally. 
Senator  Simpson,  Mr.  Mollenhauer,  and  our  good  friend 
Strobik  entered  to  see  what  they  could  see.  The  small- 
fry  politicians  were  there,  en  masse.  But  Senator  Simp 
son,  calm  judge  of  good  art,  secured  practically  the  best 
of  all  that  was  offered;  for  he  had  the  money  and  was 
perfectly  willing  to  pay  a  good  price.  To  him  went  the 
curio  case  of  Venetian  glass;  one  pair  of  tall  blue-and- white 
Mohammedan  cylindrical  vases;  fourteen  examples  of 
Chinese  jade,  including  several  artists'  water-dishes  and 
a  pierced  window-screen  of  the  faintest  tinge  of  green. 
To  Mr.  Mollenhauer  went  the  furniture  and  decorations 
of  the  entry-hall  and  reception-room  of  Henry  Cowper- 


THE    FINANCIER 

wood's  house,  and  to  Edward  Strobik  two  of  Cowper- 
wood's  bird's-eye-maple  bedroom  sets  for  the  most  mod 
est  of  prices.  Adam  Davi  was  present  and  secured  the 
secretaire  of  buhl  which  the  elder  Cowperwood  prized 
so  highly.  To  Fletcher  Gray  went  the  four  Greek  vases 
— a  kylix,  a  water-jar,  and  two  amphorse — which  he  had 
sold  to  Cowperwood  and  which  he  valued  highly.  Various 
objects  of  art,  including  a  Sevres  dinner  set,  a  Gobelin  tap 
estry,  Barye  bronzes,  and  pictures  by  Detaille,  Fortuny, 
and  George  Inness,  went  to  Walter  Leigh,  Arthur  Riv 
ers,  Joseph  Zimmerman,  Judge  Kitchen,  Harper  Steger, 
Terrence  Relihan,  Trenor  Drake,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Simeon 
Jones,  W.  C.  Davison,  Frewen  Kasson,  Fletcher  Norton, 
and  Judge  Rafalsky.  Judge  Wilbur  Payderson  stopped 
in  on  the  second  day  of  this  sale,  but  purchased  nothing. 
Within  four  days  after  the  sale  began  the  two  houses  were 
bare  of  their  contents.  Even  the  objects  which  Cowper 
wood  had  had  in  the  house  at  931  North  Tenth  Street 
had  been  withdrawn  from  storage,  where  they  had  been 
placed  at  the  time  it  was  deemed  advisable  to -close  this 
institution,  and  placed  on  sale  with  the  other  objects  in 
the  two  homes.  It  was  at  this  time  that  the  senior 
Cowperwoods  first  learned  of  something  which  seemed  to 
indicate  a  mystery  which  had  existed  in  connection  with 
their  son  and  his  wife.  No  one  of  all  the  Cowperwoods 
was  ever  present  during  all  this  gloomy  distribution; 
and  Aileen,  reading  of  the  disposition  of  all  the  wares, 
and  knowing  their  value  to  Cowperwood,  to  say  nothing 
of  their  charm  to  her,  was  greatly  depressed ;  yet  she  was 
not  long  despondent,  for  she  was  convinced  that  Cowper 
wood  would  some  day  regain  his  liberty  and  be  more 
distinguished  than  ever. 

Walking  up  and  down  in  his  cell,  meditating  on  the 
various  phases  of  his  fortune  during  the  weeks  imme 
diately  following  his  incarceration,  Cowperwood  medi 
tated  constantly  on  these  things.  If  he  could  only  strike 
it  again  in  some  way  financially — if  he  could  only  get 


THE    FINANCIER 

rich  once  more.  His  poor  father,  hunting  for  work! 
His  distressed  mother!  His  hopeless  wife!  If  he  wanted 
really  to  be  fair  to  his  wife  in  leaving  her,  he  ought  to 
have  money  to  give  her.  That  he  could  not  now  do 
unless  he  made  it  again;  and  would  he?  And  then  there 
was  Aileen — four  or  five  months  away  from  her  would 
be  a  long  time,  let  alone  four  or  five  years !  What  was  she 
thinking  ?  He  had  not  seen  her  these  first  few  weeks — had 
only  had  letters,  and  had  written  her  in  return.  When 
would  she  come?  When  would  it  be  advisable?  He  did 
not  know  that  by  now  she  was  fairly  desperate  with 
desire  to  see  him,  and  determined  to  reach  him,  whatever 
happened. 


CHAPTER   LXX 

IN  the  meanwhile  Cowperwood  had  been  transferred  to 
a  new  cell  and  a  new  overseer.  At  the  end  of  two 
weeks,  as  Chapin  had  told  him,  he  was  removed  from  the 
"manners  squad"  to  a  cell  in  Block  3  on  the  ground 
floor,  which  was  like  all  the  others  in  size,  ten  by  sixteen, 
but  to  which  was  attached  the  small  yard,  of  the  same 
size,  that  had  been  mentioned  as  possibly  coming  to  him. 
Warden  Desmas  came  up  two  days  before  he  was  trans 
ferred,  and  had  another  short  conversation  with  him 
through  his  cell  door. 

"You'll  be  transferred  on  Monday,"  he  said,  in  his 
reserved,  slow  way.  "They'll  give  you  a  yard,  though 
it  won't  be  much  good  to  you — we  only  allow  a  half-hour 
a  day  in  it.  I've  told  the  overseer  about  your  business 
arrangements.  He'll  treat  you  right  in  that  matter.  Just 
be  careful  not  to  take  up  too  much  time  that  way,  and 
things  will  work  out.  I've  decided  to  let  you  learn  caning 
chairs.  That  '11  be  the  best  for  you.  It's  easy,  and  it  '11 
occupy  your  mind." 

The  warden  and  some  allied  politicians  made  a  good 
thing  out  of  this  prison  industry,  which  was  enforced. 
It  was  really  not  hard  labor — the  tasks  set  were  simple 
and  not  oppressive,  but  all  that  were  made  were  prompt 
ly  sold  and  the  profits  pocketed.  It  was  good,  therefore, 
to  see  all  prisoners  working,  and  it  did  them  good.  Cow 
perwood  was  glad  of  the  chance  to  do  something,  for  he 
really  did  not  care  for  books,  and  his  connection  with 
Wingate  and  his  old  affairs  were  not  sufficient  now  to 
employ  his  mind  in  a  satisfactory  way.  His  hands  mov- 

717 


THE    FINANCIER 

ing  would  be  better.  He  thought,  if  he  seemed  strange 
now  how  much  stranger  he  would  seem  then,  behind  these 
narrow  bars  working  at  so  commonplace  a  task  as  caning 
chairs.  He  thanked  Warden  Desmas  for  the  sheets 
which  had  been  permitted  to  be  brought  in,  and  the 
toilet  articles. 

"That's  all  right,"  replied  the  latter,  pleasantly  and 
softly.  "It's  no  more  than  your  due.  We  know  that 
there  are  men  and  men  here,  the  same  as  anywhere.  If 
a  man  knows  how  to  use  these  things  and  wants  to  be 
clean,  I  wouldn't  be  one  to  put  anything  in  his  way." 

He  went  away,  and  Cowperwood  awaited  his  transfer 
with  interest.  It  would  be  better,  even  though  he  liked 
old  man  Chapin  so  much,  to  have  a  yard  and  a  trade. 
Both  would  help  him  to  pass  the  time  and  to  think  of 
better  days  to  come.  The  new  overseer  had  been  in 
structed  to  be  considerate  of  him.  That  would  make  a 
difference,  too,  he  thought.  He  was  quite  cheerful  over 
the  prospect.  He  began  to  gather  up  his  things  on  the 
day  of  his  transfer,  for,  being  an  ordinary  convict,  he  had 
to  transfer  all  his  personal  belongings  by  hand  to  his  new 
quarters;  and  old  man  Chapin,  seeing  him,  observed: 
"Well,  you're  goin'  to  go  now,  hain't  yuh?  Well,  I've 
done  all  I  could  for  yuh.  I've  taught  yuh  the  rules  as  best 
I  know.  I'll  see  you  down  there,  maybe,  now  and  then. 
Yuh  hain't  goin'  so  far  but  what  I  kin  find  yuh.  Maybe, 
if  everything  goes  right,  you'll  get  out  a  little  earlier  than 
you  expect.  I  see  one  and  another  here  go  that  way 
from  time  to  time." 

Cowperwood  grasped  the  old  man's  hand.  "You've 
been  very  nice  to  me,  Mr.  Chapin,"  he  said,  warmly.  "I 
certainly  appreciate  your  kindness.  And  if  I  ever  get 
out  of  here,  I  shall  not  forget  it." 

Chapin  was  too  old  a  man  to  expect  anything  much 
from  life  in  any  form.  He  was,  nevertheless,  flattered 
by  the  interest  and  good-will  of  Cowperwood,  for  the 
average  character  of  his  charges  was  not  high. 

718 


THE    FINANCIER 

"That's  all  right,  Mr.  Cowperwood.  I  never  expect 
any  thin'  fur  doin'  what  I  consider  right.  I  hope  you  git 
out,  though,  fer  I  think  very  likely  you  deserve  to.  You 
look  that  way  to  me.  You've  had  a  taste  o'  this  place  now, 
and  ye  see  what  it  is.  If  I  can  ever  do  any  thin'  for  you, 
I'll  be  glad  to." 

Cowperwood,  who  was  actually  moving  at  the  time, 
gathered  up  an  armful  of  linen,  underwear,  books,  and 
the  like,  and  went  his  way.  In  his  ill-fitting,  semi-cotton, 
striped,  cheap  suit,  and  with  his  arms  full  of  movables,  he 
looked  anything  but  the  financier  who  had  been  such  a 
striking  personage  in  Third  Street. 

The  new  overseer  with  whom  Cowperwood  had  to  deal 
was  a  very  different  person  from  Elias  Chapin.  His  name 
was  Walter  Bonhag,  and  he  was  not  more  than  thirty- 
seven  years  of  age — a  big,  flabby  sort  of  person  with  a 
crafty  mind,  whose  principal  object  in  life  was  to  see 
whether  this  prison  situation  as  he  found  it  would  not 
furnish  him  a  better  income  than  his  normal  salary  pro 
vided.  A  close  study  of  Bonhag  would  have  seemed  to 
indicate  that  he  was  a  stool-pigeon  of  Desmas,  but  this 
was  really  not  true  except  in  a  limited  way.  Because 
Bonhag  was  shrewd  and  sycophantic,  quick  to  see  a  point 
in  his  or  anybody  else's  favor,  Desmas  instinctively  real 
ized  that  he  was  the  kind  of  man  who  could  be  trusted 
to  be  lenient  on  order  or  suggestion.  That  is,  if  Desmas 
had  the  least  interest  in  a  prisoner  he  need  not  say  as 
much  to  Bonhag;  he  might  merely  suggest  that  this 
man  was  used  to  a  different  kind  of  life,  or  that,  because 
of  some  past  experience,  it  might  go  hard  with  him  if 
he  were  handled  roughly;  and  Bonhag  would  strain 
himself  to  be  pleasant.  The  trouble  was  that  to  a  shrewd 
man  of  any  refinement  his  attentions  were  objectionable, 
being  obviously  offered  for  a  purpose,  and  to  a  poor 
or  ignorant  man  they  were  brutal  and  contemptuous. 
He  had  a  score  of  methods  of  making  money  out  of  the 
prisoners  by  selling  them  extra  allowances  of  things  which 

719 


THE    FINANCIER 

he  secretly  brought  into  the  prison.  It  was  strictly 
against  the  rules,  in  theory  at  least,  to  bring  in  anything 
which  was  not  sold  in  the  store-room — tobacco,  writing- 
paper,  pens,  ink,  whisky,  cigars,  or  delicacies  of  any  kind. 
It  is  true  that  tobacco  of  inferior  grade  was  provided, 
and  wretched  pens,  ink,  and  paper;  but  no  self-respecting 
man,  if  he  could  help  it,  would  endure  them.  Whisky 
was  not  allowed  at  all,  and  delicacies  were  abhorred  as  in 
dicating  rank  favoritism ;  nevertheless,  they  were  brought 
in.  If  a  prisoner  had  the  price  and  was  willing  to  see  that 
Bonhag  secured  something  for  his  trouble,  almost  any 
thing  would  be  forthcoming.  The  privilege  of  being  sent 
into  the  general  yard  as  a  "trusty,"  or  of  being  allowed 
to  stay  in  the  little  private  yard  which  some  cells  pos 
sessed,  longer  than  the  half-hour  ordinarily  permitted, 
was  to  be  had  for  a  consideration.  Bonhag  had  a  pe 
culiar  face,  which  was  anything  but  weak,  yet  not  straight 
forward.  It  was  rather  well  modeled,  but  often  either 
leering  or  lowering.  Sometimes  it  was  gay,  but  in  the 
coarse,  vulgar,  animal  fashion.  The  man  had  no  wit,  in 
the  best  sense  of  the  word.  He  was  without  a  real  sense 
of  humor.  His  mind  was  really  too  centered  on  his 
material  improvement  to  be  of  the  least  value  to  any 
body  else,  and  only  fools  would  really  trust  him.  One 
look  on  Cowperwood's  part,  on  his  arrival,  satisfied  him 
that  all  the  things  which  have  here  been  said  of  Bonhag 
were  true.  He  saw  that  he  could  use  him  by  making  it 
worth  his  while,  and  of  course  he  proposed  to  do  so. 

One  of  the  things  which  worked  in  Cowperwood's  favor 
was  the  fact  that  Bonhag  was  friendly  with  the  overseer 
who  had  Stener  in  charge.  Stener,  because  of  his  political 
friends,  was,  as  has  been  said,  being  liberally  treated, 
and  Bonhag  knew  of  this.  He  was  not  a  careful  reader 
of  newspapers,  nor  had  he  any  intellectual  grasp  of  im 
portant  events;  but  he  knew  by  now  that  both  Stener 
and  Cowperwood  were  individuals  of  great  importance 
in  the  community,  that  Cowperwood  was  the  more  im- 

720 


THE    FINANCIER 

portant  of  the  two,  and  that,  as  Bonhag  suspected,  he 
still  had  money.  And  so,  entirely  aside  from  Warden 
Desmas's  recommendation,  which  was  given  in  a  very 
quiet,  non-committal  way,  Bonhag  was  interested  to  see 
what  he  could  do  for  Cowperwood  for  a  price.  He  was 
actually  afraid  that  if  he  did  not  do  something,  Steger, 
who  looked  very  important  to  him,  and  Wingate,  who  had 
a  very  considerable  air  as  a  business  man,  although  he 
was  not  a  remarkable  one,  might  say  something  to  Desmas, 
whom  he  fancied  they  knew.  Cowperwood  might  com 
plain,  and  the  latter  not  being  like  those  friendless 
creatures  in  the  other  cells  who  had  no  one  to  speak  their 
woes  to,  Bonhag  would  be  in  danger  of  criticism  on  some 
score.  Trust  the  sycophant  promptly  to  see  on  which 
side  his  bread  is  buttered. 

The  day  Cowperwood  was  installed  here,  having  been 
brought  over  by  Chapin,  Bonhag  lolled  up  to  the  door, 
which  was  open,  and  said,  in  a  semi-patronizing  way, 
"Got  all  your  things  over  yet?"  It  was  his  business  to 
lock  the  door  once  Cowperwood  was  inside  it. 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  Cowperwood,  who  had  been  shrewd 
enough  to  get  the  new  overseer's  name  from  Chapin; 
"this  is  Mr.  Bonhag,  I  presume?" 

"That's  me,"  replied  Bonhag,  easily  and  curiously. 
He  was  anxious  to  study  Cowperwood,  to  see  what  type 
of  man  he  was.  The  latter  was  more  than  a  match  for 
the  situation.  His  manner  betrayed  just  that  amount 
of  deference  and  confidence,  without  sycophancy,  which 
would  be  grateful  to  the  thick-witted  overseer.  He 
wanted  to  patronize  Cowperwood,  and  yet  to  be  con 
sidered  by  him.  Exactly  what  he  expected  he  received. 
Cowperwood  was  alert,  courteous,  industrious.  He  fell 
into  an  easy  conversation  with  this  master  of  the  hall 
which  was  confiding  and  yet  not  familiar.  In  a  reserved 
way  he  described  Mr.  Chapin  and  his  pleasure  in  being 
with  him. 

"You'll  find  it  a  little  different  down  here  from  up 
721 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

there,"  observed  Bonhag.  "It  ain't  so  stuffy.  These 
doors  out  in  the  yards  make  a  difference."  He  looked 
toward  the  tightly  sealed  door  which  gave  into  the 
narrow  space  outside  as  though  it  were  some  tremendous 
privilege  for  which  Cowperwood  should  be  vastly  grateful. 

"Oh  yes,"  said  Cowperwood.  "That  is  the  yard  Mr. 
Desmas  spoke  about." 

If  Bonhag  had  been  a  horse  his  ears  would  have 
been  seen  to  lift  at  the  mention  of  this  magic  name.  If 
Cowperwood  was  so  friendly  with  Desmas  that  the 
latter  had  described  to  him  the  type  of  cell  he  was  to 
have  beforehand,  it  behooved  Bonhag  to  be  especially 
careful. 

' '  Yes,  that's  it,  but  it  ain't  much, ' '  he  observed.  ' '  They 
only  allow  a  half -hour  a  day  in  it.  Still  it  would  be  all 
right  if  a  person  could  stay  there  longer." 

This  was  the  first  hint  at  graft,  favoritism ;  and  Cowper 
wood  distinctly  caught  the  sound  of  it  in  Bonhag's  voice. 
He  could  see  that  some  time,  if  he  wished,  Bonhag  would 
stretch  a  point  in  this  matter. 

"That  is  too  bad,"  said  Cowperwood.  "I  don't  sup 
pose  good  conduct  helps  a  person  to  get  more."  He 
smiled  in  a  friendly,  impressive  way. 

"I'd  better  teach  you  your  trade,"  said  Bonhag,  ge 
nially.  "You've  got  to  learn  to  cane  chairs,  so  the  warden 
says.  If  you  want,  we  can  begin  right  now." 

Cowperwood  expressed  himself  as  delighted,  and  Bonhag 
went  off,  locking  the  door  as  he  went,  returning  after  a 
time  with  three  unvarnished  frames  of  chairs  and  a  bundle 
of  cane  strips  or  withes,  which  he  deposited  on  the  floor. 
"Now  I'll  show  you  if  you'll  watch  me,"  he  said;  and  he 
began  showing  Cowperwood  how  the  strips  were  to  be 
laced  through  the  apertures  on  either  side,  cut,  and  fas 
tened  with  little  hickory  pegs.  He  had  brought  a  forcing 
awl,  a  small  hammer,  a  box  of  pegs,  and  a  pair  of  clippers. 
After  several  brief  demonstrations  with  different  strips, 
as  to  how  the  geometric  forms  were  designed,  he  allowed 

722 


THE    FINANCIER 

Cowperwood  to  take  the  matter  in  hand,  watching  over 
his  shoulder.  The  latter,  quick  at  anything,  manual  or 
mental,  went  at  it  in  his  customary  energetic  fashion, 
and  in  five  minutes  demonstrated  that,  barring  the 
skill  and  speed,  which  would  only  come  with  practice, 
he  could  do  it  as  well  as  another.  "You'll  make  out  all 
right,"  said  Bonhag.  "You're  supposed  to  do  ten  of 
those  a  day.  We  won't  count  the  next  few  days,  though, 
until  you  get  your  hand  in.  I'll  come  around  now  and 
then  and  see  how  you're  getting  along.  You  understand 
about  the  towel  on  the  door,  don't  you?"  he  inquired. 
He  was  referring  to  the  prisoners'  method  of  calling  at 
tention  to  their  needs. 

"Yes,  Mr.  Chapin  explained  that  to  me,"  replied  Cow 
perwood.  "I  think  I  know  what  most  of  the  rules  are 
now.  I'll  try  not  to  break  any  of  them." 

Bonhag  went  away,  and  Cowperwood  was  left  to  him 
self,  contemplating  the  years  that  were  before  him  here. 
He  must  get  Steger  and  Wingate  and  his  father  and  others 
to  work  hard  in  order  to  get  him  out.  It  was  intolerable 
to  him  to  think  that  he  should  be  compelled  to  stay  here 
even  so  much  as  a  single  year. 

The  days  which  followed  brought  a  number  of  modifi 
cations  of  his  prison  lot,  but  not  sufficient  by  any  means 
to  make  it  acceptable  to  him.  In  spite  of  his  supposed 
influence  with  Desmas,  the  helpful  connections  he  main 
tained  with  Steger,  Wingate,  and  others,  and  the  financial 
understanding  he  managed  to  effect  with  Bonhag,  he  was 
very  uncomfortable  and  unhappy,  though  he  bore  it  all 
like  a  stoic.  Bonhag,  during  the  first  few  days  in  which 
he  trained  Cowperwood  in  the  art  of  caning  chairs, 
managed  to  make  it  perfectly  clear  that  there  were  a 
number  of  things  he  would  be  willing  to  do  for  him.  "I 
see  you  have  your  lawyer  and  your  partner  here  every 
day,"  he  said  to  him,  one  morning.  "There  isn't  anybody 
else  you'd  like  to  have  visit  you,  is  there?  It's  against 
the  rules  to  have  your  wife  or  sister  or  anybody  like  that, 

723 


THE    FINANCIER 

except  on  visiting-days,  but  all  the  rules  ain't  kept  around 
here,  by  a  long  shot." 

Bonhag  had  been  impressed  by  the  fact  that  Stener's 
friends  were  coming  to  see  him  in  larger  numbers  than 
Cowperwood's,  sending  him  an  occasional  basket  of  fruit, 
which  he  gave  to  the  overseers,  and  that  his  wife  and 
children  had  been  already  permitted  to  visit  him  outside 
the  regular  visiting-day.  This  was  a  cause  for  jealousy 
on  Bonhag's  part.  His  fellow-overseer  was  lording  it 
over  him — telling  him,  as  it  were,  of  the  high  jinks  in 
Block  4.  Bonhag  really  wanted  Cowperwood  to  spruce 
up  and  show  what  he  could  do,  socially  or  otherwise. 

Cowperwood  was  not  the  man  to  lose  a  chance  of  this 
kind.  "  I'll  tell  you  how  it  is,  Mr.  Bonhag,"  he  said,  very 
politely,  but  with  that  engaging  frankness  which  caused 
even  Bonhag  to  feel  as  if  he  were  one  cf  his  oldest  friends. 
"I  believe  you  understand  my  position  better  than  most 
men  would,  and  that  I  can  talk  to  you.  There  are  people 
who  would  like  to  come  here,  but  I  have  been  afraid 
to  let  them  come.  I  did  not  know  that  outside  of  Mr. 
Wingate  and  Mr.  Steger  it  could  be  arranged.  If  it 
could  be,  I  would  be  very  grateful.  You  and  I  are  prac 
tical  men — I  know  that  if  any  favors  are  extended  some 
of  those  who  help  to  bring  them  about  must  be  looked 
after.  I  wish  I  could  make  you  my  agent  in  this  matter, 
and  if  you  would  be  willing  I  would  make  it  well  worth 
your  while.  I  am  in  prison,  and  I  do  not  want  to  make 
any  more  trouble  than  I  have  to.  I  am  not  used  to  this 
life,  and  it's  going  rather  hard  with  me.  If  you  can  do  any 
thing  to  make  it  a  little  more  comfortable  for  me  I  will 
show  you  that  I  appreciate  it.  I  haven't  any  money  on 
my  person,  but  can  always  get  it,  and  I  will  see  that  you 
are  properly  looked  after." 

Bonhag's  short,  thick  ears  tingled.  This  was  the  kind 
of  talk  he  liked  to  hear.  "I  can  fix  anything  like  that, 
Mr.  Cowperwood,"  he  replied,  servilely.  "You  leave  it 
to  me.  If  there's  any  one  you  want  to  see  at  any  time, 

724 


THE    FI  NANCIER 

just  let  me  know.  Of  course  I  have  to  be  very  careful, 
but  that's  all  right,  too.  If  you  want  to  stay  out  in  that 
yard  a  little  longer  in  the  mornings  or  get  out  there  after 
noons  or  evenings,  I  can  fix  that.  I'll  just  leave  the  door 
open.  If  the  warden  or  anybody  else  should  be  around, 
I'll  just  scratch  on  your  door  with  my  key,  and  you  come 
in  and  shut  it.  If  there's  anything  you  want  from  the 
outside  I  can  get  it  for  you — jelly  or  eggs  or  butter  or 
any  little  thing  like  that.  You  might  like  to  fix  up  your 
meals  a  little  that  way." 

Cowperwood  wanted  to  smile.  Bonhag's  proposition 
tended  to  make  this  penitentiary  a  very  comfortable 
caravansary.  He  kept  a  straight  face,  however. 

"In  regard  to  that  other  matter,"  went  on  Bonhag, 
referring  to  the  matter  of  extra  visitors,  "I  can  fix  that 
any  time  you  want  to.  I  know  the  men  out  at  the  gate. 
If  you  want  anybody  to  come  here,  just  write  'em  a  note 
and  tell  'em  to  ask  for  me.  They'll  let  'em  in  all  right. 
When  they  get  here  you  can  talk  to  'em  in  your  cell. 
Only  when  I  tap  they  have  to  come  out.  So  just  you  let 
me  know." 

Cowperwood  was  exceedingly  grateful.  He  said  so  in 
direct,  choice  language.  It  occurred  to  him  at  once  that 
this  was  Aileen's  opportunity,  and  that  he  could  now 
notify  her  to  come.  If  she  veiled  herself  sufficiently  she 
would  probably  be  safe  enough.  He  decided  to  write 
her,  and  when  Wingate  came  he  gave  him  a  letter  to  mail. 
Two  days  later,  at  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon — the 
time  appointed  by  him — Aileen  came  to  see  him  for  the 
first  time  in  the  prison.  She  was  dressed  in  gray  broad 
cloth  with  white-velvet  trimmings  and  cut-steel  buttons 
which  glistened  like  silver,  and  wore,  as  additional  orna 
ments,  as  well  as  a  protection  against  the  cold,  a  cap, 
stole,fand  muff  of  snow-white  ermine.  Over  this  rather 
striking  costume  she  had  slipped  a  long  dark  circular  cloak, 
which  she  meant  to  lay  off  immediately  upon  her  arrival. 
She  had  made  a  very  careful  toilet  as  to  her  shoes,  gloves, 

725 


THE    FINANCIER 

hair,  and  the  gold  ornaments  which  she  wore.  Her  face 
was  concealed  by  a  thick  green  veil,  as  Cowperwood 
had  suggested;  and  she  arrived  at  an  hour  when,  as  near 
as  he  had  been  able  to  prearrange,  he  would  be  alone. 
Wingate  usually  came  at  four,  after  business,  and  Steger 
in  the  morning,  when  he  came  at  all.  She  was  very 
nervous  over  this  strange  adventure,  leaving  the  street 
car  some  distance  away  and  walking  up  a  side  street. 
The  cold  weather  and  the  gray  walls  under  a  gray  sky 
gave  her  a  sense  of  defeat,  but  she  had  worked  very 
hard  to  look  nice  in  order  to  cheer  her  lover  up.  She 
knew  how  readily  he  responded  to  the  influence  of  her 
beauty  when  properly  displayed. 

Cowperwood,  in  view  of  her  coming,  had  made  his  cell 
as  acceptable  as  possible.  It  was  clean,  because  he  had 
swept  it  and  made  his  own  bed;  and  he  had  shaved 
and  combed  his  hair,  and  otherwise  put  himself  to 
rights.  The  caned  chairs  on  which  he  was  working  had 
been  put  in  the  corner  at  the  end  of  the  bed.  His  few 
dishes  were  washed  and  hung  up,  and  his  clogs  brushed 
with  a  brush  which  he  now  kept  for  the  purpose.  Never 
before,  he  thought  to  himself,  with  a  peculiar  feeling  of 
artistic  degradation,  had  Aileen  seen  him  like  this.  She 
had  always  admired  his  good  taste  in  clothes,  and  the 
way  he  carried  himself  in  them;  and  now  she  was  to  see 
him  in  garments  which  no  dignity  of  body  could  make 
presentable.  A  stoic  sense  of  his  own  soul-dignity  came 
over  him,  however.  He  was  Frank  A.  Cowperwood,  and 
that  was  enough,  whatever  he  wore.  He  would  be  free 
and  rich  some  day  again,  and,  anyhow,  his  looks  under 
these  circumstances  would  make  no  difference  to  Aileen. 
She  would  only  love  him  the  more.  It  was  her  ardent 
sympathy  that  he  was  afraid  of.  He  was  so  glad  that 
Bonhag  had  suggested  that  she  might  enter  the  cell,  for 
it  would  be  a  grim  procedure  talking  to  her  through  a 
barred  door.  Steger  and  Wingate  had  been  allowed  to 
confer  with  him  in  his  cell  from  the  beginning. 

726 


THE    FINANCIER 

When  Aileen  arrived  she  asked  for  Mr.  Bonhag,  and 
was  permitted  to  go  to  the  central  rotunda,  where  he 
was  sent  for.  When  he  came  she  murmured:  "I  wish 
to  see  Mr.  Cowperwood,  if  you  please";  and  he  exclaimed, 
"Oh  yes,  just  come  with  me."  As  he  came  across  the 
rotunda  floor  from  his  corridor  he  was  struck  by  the 
evident  youth  of  Aileen,  even  though  he  could  not  see  her 
face.  This  now  was  something  in  accordance  with  what 
he  had  expected  of  Cowperwood.  A  man  who  could  steal 
five  hundred  thousand  dollars  and  set  a  whole  city  by 
the  ears  must  have  wonderful  adventures  of  all  kinds, 
and  Aileen  looked  like  a  true  adventure.  He  led  her  to 
a  little  room  where  he  kept  his  desk  and  detained  vis 
itors,  and  bustled  down  to  Cowperwood's  cell,  scratching 
on  the  door  with  his  key.  "There's  a  young  lady  here  to 
see  you.  Do  you  want  to  let  her  come  inside  the  cell  ?"  he 
said  to  Cowperwood,  who  was  working  at  one  of  his  chairs. 

"Thank  you,  yes,"  replied  Cowperwood;  and  Bonhag 
hurried  away,  unintentionally  forgetting,  in  his  boorish 
incivility,  to  unlock  the  cell  door,  so  that  he  had  to  open 
it  in  Aileen's  presence.  The  long  corridor,  with  the  math 
ematically  spaced  gratings  and  gray-stone  pavement, 
caused  Aileen  to  feel  faint  at  heart.  It  chilled  her  usually 
courageous  spirit  and  shriveled  it  up.  She  followed 
Bonhag  nervously,  for  all  her  smart  air;  for  these  hard, 
steel  bars  seemed  very  menacing  to  her.  What  a  terrible 
place  for  her  Frank  to  be !  What  a  horrible  thing  to  have 
put  him  here!  Judges,  juries,  courts,  laws,  jails  seemed 
like  so  many  foaming  ogres  ranged  about  the  world, 
glaring  down  upon  her  and  her  love-affair.  The  clank  of 
the  key  in  the  lock,  and  the  heavy  outward  swinging  of  the 
door,  completed  her  sense  of  the  untoward.  And  then  she 
saw  Cowperwood. 

Because  of  the  price  he  was  to  receive,  Bonhag,  after 
admitting  her,  strolled  discreetly  away. 

Aileen  looked  at  Cowperwood  from  behind  her  veil, 
afraid  to  speak  until  she  was  sure  Bonhag  had  gone. 

727 


THE    FINANCIER 

Cowperwood,  who  was  retaining  his  self-possession  by 
an  effort,  signaled  her  after  a  moment  or  two.  "It's  all 
right,"  he  said.  "He's  gone  away."  She  lifted  her  veil, 
removed  her  cloak,  and  took  in,  without  seeming  to,  the 
stuffy,  narrow  thickness  of  the  room,  his  wretched  shoes, 
the  cheap,  misshapen  suit,  the  iron  door  behind  him 
leading  out  into  the  little  yard  attached  to  his  cell. 
Against  such  a  background,  with  his  partially  caned  chairs 
visible  at  the  end  of  the  bed,  he  seemed  strange,  unnatural. 
It  was  useless  for  her  to  try  to  speak  for  the  moment, 
and  then  she  suddenly  said,  putting  her  arms  around  him 
and  stroking  his  head:  4 

"My  poor  Frank,  my  brave  boy.  Is  this  what  they 
have  done  to  you?" 

Cowperwood  did  his  best  to  retain  his  sense  of  com 
posure  in  the  face  of  this  sudden  onslaught;  but  for  the 
first  time  in  his  life,  and  the  only  time  in  all  his  life,  he 
lost  it.  He  lost  it  by  some  inexplicable  trick  of  chemis 
try — that  chemistry  of  the  body,  of  blind  forces  which  so 
readily  supersede  reason  at  times.  The  depth  of  Aileen's 
feeling,  the  cooing  sound  of  her  voice,  the  velvety  tender 
ness  of  her  hands,  that  beauty  that  had  drawn  him  all  the 
time — more  radiant  here  perhaps  within  these  hard  walls, 
and  in  the  face  of  his  physical  misery,  than  it  had  ever  been 
before — completely  unmanned  him.  He  did  not  under 
stand  how  it  could;  he  tried  to  defy  the  mood,  but  he 
could  not.  When  she  held  his  head  close  'and  caressed 
it,  of  a  sudden,  in  spite  of  himself,  his  breast  felt  thick 
and  stuffy,  and  his  throat  hurt  him.  He  felt,  for  him,  an 
astonishingly  strange  feeling,  a  desire  to  cry,  which  he 
did  his  best  to  overcome;  it  shocked  him  so.  There  then 
combined  and  conspired  to  defeat  him  a  strange,  rich 
picture  of  the  great  world  he  had  so  recently  lost,  of  the 
lovely,  magnificent  world  which  he  hoped  some  day  to 
regain.  He  felt  more  poignantly  at  this  moment  than 
ever  he  had  before  the  degradation  of  the  clog  shoes,  the 
cotton  shirt,  the  striped  suit,  the  reputation  of  a  convict 

728 


THE    FI  NANCI  ER 

permanent  and  not  to  be  laid  aside.  He  felt  now  the  real  in 
justice  of  the  great  Chicago  fire,  the  panic,  the  tricky  polit 
ical  situation  which  had  entrapped  him  and  sent  him  here. 
Now  he  was  quite  alone — still  fighting  to  win,  but  alone. 
His  friends  had  almost  deserted  him ;  his  family  and  home 
life  were  practically  disintegrated.  Outside  of  the  busi 
ness  he  was  trying  to  build  up  with  Wingate  day  by  day, 
he  had  nothing.  Really  Aileen  was  with  him  no  longer — 
belonging  to  an  outside  world  which  abhorred  stripes. 
It  came  to  him,  all,  in  a  rich,  colorful  way — more  romance 
really  than  he  had  ever  experienced ;  and  because  she  had 
pulled  his  head  down  to  her  shoulder  under  her  soft  chin 
and  was  stroking  it,  he  began  to  cry.  He  drew  himself 
quickly  away  from  her,  turned  his  back,  clinched  his 
hands,  drew  his  muscles  taut;  but  it  was  too  late.  He 
was  crying,  and  he  could  not  stop. 

"Oh,  damn  it!"  he  exclaimed,  half  angrily,  half  self- 
commiseratingly,  in  combined  rage  and  shame.  "Why 
should  I  cry?  What  the  devil's  the  matter  with  me, 
anyhow?" 

Aileen  saw  it.  She  fairly  flung  herself  in  front  of  him, 
seized  his  head  with  one  hand,  his  shabby  waist  with  the 
other,  and  held  him  tight  in  a  grip  that  he  could  not  have 
readily  released. 

"Oh,  honey,  honey,  honey!"  she  exclaimed,  pityingly, 
feverishly.  "I  love  you,  I  adore  you.  They  could  cut 
my  body  into  bits  if  it  would  do  you  any  good.  To  think 
that  they  should  make  you  cry!  Oh,  my  sweet,  my 
sweet,  my  darling  boy!" 

She  pulled  his  still  shaking  body  tighter  (now  com 
pletely  unmanned  by  her  emotion),  and  with  her  free 
hand  caressed  his  head.  She  kissed  it,  his  eyes,  his  hair, 
his  cheeks.  He  pulled  himself  loose  again  after  a  moment, 
exclaiming,  "What  the  devil's  got  into  me?"  but  she  drew 
him  back. 

"Never  mind,  honey,  don't  you  be  ashamed  to  cry. 
Cry  here  on  my  shoulder.  My  honey,  my  baby!" 

24  729 


THE    FINANCIER 

She  kissed  his  hair  and  eyes  and  cheeks  and  ears,  the 
while  Bonhag  paced  the  hall  in  the  distance.  She  loved 
him  desperately,  agonizingly,  with  a  strong  effusion  of 
vital,  animal  temperament.  She  was  really  his,  body 
and  soul.  He  quieted  down  after  a  few  moments,  cau 
tioning  her  against  Bonhag,  and  regaining  his  former 
composure. 

"You're  a  great  girl,  pet,"  he  said.  "You're  all  right, 
just  what  I  need;  but  don't  worry  any  longer  about  me, 
though.  I'm  all  right.  How  are  you?" 

Aileen  on  her  part  was  not  to  be  soothed  so  easily.  His 
many  woes,  including  his  wretched  position  here,  out 
raged  her  sense  of  justice  and  decency.  To  think  her  fine, 
wonderful  Frank  should  be  compelled  to  come  to  this — 
to  cry.  She  stroked  his  head,  tenderly,  while  wild,  deadly, 
unreasoning  opposition  to  life  and  chance  and  untoward 
opposition  surged  in  her  brain.  Her  father — damn  him! 
Her  family — pooh!  What  did  she  care?  Her  Frank — 
her  Frank — was  all  she  thought  about.  She  clung  to  him 
in  silence  while  she  fought  in  her  brain  an  awful  battle  with 
life  and  law  and  fate  and  circumstance.  Law — nonsense ! 
People — they  were  brutes,  devils,  enemies,  hounds!  She 
was  delighted,  eager,  crazy  to  make  a  sacrifice  of  her 
self.  She  would  go  anywhere  for  or  with  her  Frank  now. 
She  would  do  anything  for  him.  Her  family  was  noth 
ing — life  nothing,  nothing,  nothing.  She  would  do  any 
thing  he  wished,  nothing  more,  nothing  less ;  anything  she 
could  do  to  save  him,  to  make  his  life  happier,  but  noth 
ing  for  any  one  else.  How  was  it  she  had  come  to  stay 
away  so  long? 


.CHAPTER  LXXI 

THE  days  passed.  Once  the  understanding  with 
Bonhag  was  reached,  Cowperwood's  wife,  mother, 
and  sister  were  allowed  to  appear  on  occasions.  It  es 
tablished  a  visiting  relation  between  him  and  Aileen. 
He  was  very  careful  to  arrange  that  they  did  not  appear 
on  the  same  day  as  Aileen;  that  was  easy  enough,  for  no 
one  of  them  came  sufficiently  often  to  make  a  clash 
possible.  Cowperwood,  in  his  solemn  brooding  over  his 
chair-caning,  decided  to  speak  frankly  to  his  wife,  now 
that  he  was  so  thoroughly  removed  from  her,  and  one 
day  did  so.  He  had  such  an  excellent  excuse  now,  he 
reasoned.  She  was  in  the  little  home  for  which  he  was 
paying,  and  his  financial  obligations  to  her  were  satisfied 
by  Wingate,  who  paid  her  one  hundred  and  twenty-five 
dollars  a  month  for  him.  He  realized  that  he  owed  her 
more,  if  he  could  pay  more,  but  he  was  sailing  rather 
close  to  the  wind  financially,  these  days,  for  him.  The 
final  collapse  of  his  old  interests  had  come  in  March,  when 
he  had  been  legally  declared  a  bankrupt,  and  all  his  prop 
erties  forfeited  to  satisfy  the  claims  against  him.  The 
city's  claim  of  five  hundred  thousand  dollars  would  have 
eaten  up  more  than  could  have  been  realized  at  the  time, 
had  not  a  pro  rata  payment  of  thirty  cents  on  the  dollar 
been  declared.  Even  then  the  city  never  received  its  due, 
for  by  some  hocus-pocus  it  was  declared  to  have  forfeited 
its  rights.  Its  claims  had  not  been  made  at  the  proper 
time  in  the  proper  way.  This  left  larger  portions  of  real 
money  for  the  others. 

Cowperwood  had  now  begun  to  see  by  a  little  experi 
menting  that  his  business  relations  with  Wingate  were 


THE    FINANCIER 

certain  to  be  moderately  profitable.  The  latter  broker 
had  made  it  clear  that  he  intended  to  be  perfectly  straight 
with  him.  He  had  employed  Cowperwood's  two  brothers, 
at  very  moderate  salaries — one  to  take  care  of  the  books 
and  look  after  the  office,  and  the  other  to  act  on  'change 
with  him,  for  their  seats  in  that  organization  had  never 
been  sold.  He  gathered  all  the  information  he  possibly 
could  daily,  and  told  it  all  to  Cowperwood,  whose  keen 
mind  and  wide  experience  permitted  him  to  make  sug 
gestions  which  almost  invariably  turned  out  well.  They 
were  handicapped,  of  course,  by  a  lack  of  means;  and 
Cowperwood  did  not  care  to  have  it  known  at  pres 
ent  that  he  was  operating  through  Wingate.  He  was 
afraid  it  would  not  do  the  house  any  good.  He  did 
make  suggestions  as  to  how  money  could  be  secured  and 
where,  how  certificates  could  be  hypothecated  and  capi 
tal  pyramided,  which  Wingate's  average  mind  would  never 
have  dreamed  of.  He  used  to  look  at  Cowperwood  at 
times  with  dog-like  eyes,  while  that  worthy  solved  some 
complicated  problem  for  him  in  a  rather  offhand  manner, 
and  then  sent  him  cheerfully  on  his  way.  Cowperwood 
showed  Wingate  how  to  use  Edward  and  Joseph  to  the 
best  advantage,  and  by  considerable  effort  finally  got 
Cowperwood,  senior,  a  place  as  a  clerk,  Wingate  having 
notified  the  old  gentleman  of  a  vacancy  in  a  bank. 

To  see  old  Cowperwood  bustling  off  from  his  new  but 
very  much  reduced  home  at  half  after  seven  in  the  morn 
ing  in  order  to  reach  the  small  bank,  which  was  some 
distance  away  and  not  accessible  by  street-car  line, 
was  one  of  those  pathetic  sights  which  the  fortunes  of 
trade  so  frequently  offer.  He  carried  his  lunch  in  a  small 
box  because  it  was  inconvenient  to  return  home  in  the 
time  allotted  for  this  purpose,  and  because  his  new 
salary  did  not  permit  the  extravagance  of  a  purchased 
one.  It  was  his  one  ambition  now  to  eke  out  a  respect 
able  but  unseen  existence  until  he  should  die,  which  he 
hoped  would  not  be  long.  Day  in  and  day  out  he  went 

732 


THE    FINANCIER 

shuttlewise  back  and  forth  in  this  manner,  pointed  out 
occasionally  by  those  who  had  known  him  in  his  better 
days  as  the  ex-president  of  the  Third  National  who  had 
come  to  grief  through  his  son.  He  was  a  pathetic  figure 
with  his  thin  legs  and  body,  his  gray  hair,  and  his  snow- 
white  side-whiskers.  He  was  very  lean  and  angular,  and, 
when  confronted  by  a  difficult  problem,  a  little  uncertain 
or  vague  in  his  mind.  The  habit  of  putting  his  hand  to 
his  mouth  and  of  opening  his  eyes  in  an  assumption  of 
surprise,  which  had  no  basis  in  fact,  grew  upon  him. 
He  really  degenerated  into  a  mere  automaton.  Life 
strews  its  shores  with  such  interesting  and  pathetic 
wrecks. 

Cowperwood  speculated  for  some  time  as  to  how  he 
would  bring  up  the  matter  of  his  indifference  to  his  wife, 
and  his  desire  to  end  their  relationship,  but  he  did  not 
see  anything  for  it  save  the  brutality  of  plain  truth. 
She  was  persisting  in  her  pretense  of  devotion,  uncolored, 
apparently,  by  suspicion  of  any  kind,  when  as  a  matter 
of  fact  she  had  never  ceased  to  brood  over  what  had 
happened.  Since  his  trial  and  conviction  she  had  been 
hearing  from  one  source  and  another  that  he  was  still 
intimate  with  Aileen,  and  it  was  only  her  thought  of  his 
concurrent  woes,  and  the  fact  that  he  might  possibly  be 
spared  to  a  successful  financial  life,  that  had  deterred 
her  from  speaking.  Now  that  he  was  shut  up  in  a  cell, 
she  really  felt  very  sorry  for  him,  but  she  did  not  love  him 
as  she  once  had.  She  felt  that  he  was  deserving  of  re 
proach  for  his  general  unseemly  conduct,  and  that  this 
was  probably  intended  by  the  Governing  Power  of  the 
world,  which  makes  for  morality,  to  cause  him  to  see  the 
error  of  his  way. 

One  can  imagine  how  much  this  attitude  would  appeal 
to  Cowperwood  once  he  detected  it.  He  could  see  by  a 
dozen  little  signs,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  she  brought 
him  delicacies,  and  commiserated  him  on  his  fate,  that 
she  felt  a  little  reproachful,  a  little  depressed  and  sad. 

733 


THE    FINANCIER 

If  there  was  one  thing  that  Cowperwood  objected  to  at 
all  times  it  was  the  funereal  air.  As  contrasted  with 
the  cheerful  combative  hopefulness  and  enthusiasm  of 
Aileen,  the  wearied  uncertainty  of  Mrs.  Cowperwood  was, 
to  say  the  least,  a  little  tame.  Aileen,  after  her  first 
burst  of  rage  over  his  fate,  which  really  did  not  develop 
any  tears  on  her  part,  was  apparently  convinced  that  he 
would  get  out  and  be  very  successful  again.  She  naturally 
talked  success  and  his  future  all  the  time  because  she 
believed  in  it.  She  seemed  instinctively  to  realize  that 
he  must  be  great,  and  that  prison  walls  could  not  make 
a  prison  for  him.  On  the  first  day  she  left  she  handed- 
Bonhag  ten  dollars  and  thanked  him  in  her  attractive 
voice — without  showing  her  face,  however — which  sealed 
that  ambitious  materialist's  fate  completely.  There  was 
nothing  the  overseer  would  not  do  for  the  young  Jady  in 
the  dark  cloak.  She  might  have  stayed  in  Cowperwood's 
cell  for  a  week  if  the  visiting-hours  of  the  penitentiary 
had  not  made  it  impossible. 

The  day  that  Cowperwood  brought  up  the  weariness 
of  his  present  married  state  and  his  desire  to  be  free  of  it 
was  some  four  months  after  he  had  entered  the  prison. 
He  had  become  inured  to  his  convict  life  by  that  time. 
The  silence  of  his  cell  and  the  menial  tasks  he  was  com 
pelled  to  perform,  which  had  at  first  been  so  distressing, 
banal,  maddening,  in  their  pointless  iteration,  had  now 
become  merely  commonplace — dull,  but  not  painful.  He 
had  learned  many  of  the  little  resources  of  the  solitary 
convict,  such  as  that  of  using  his  lamp  to  warm  up  some 
delicacy  which  he  had  saved  from  a  previous  meal  or 
from  some  basket  which  had  been  sent  him  by  his  wife 
or  Aileen.  He  had  got  rid  of  the  sickening  odor  of  his 
room  in  part  by  persuading  Bonhag  to  bring  him  small 
packages  of  lime,  which  he  used  with  great  freedom. 
He  defeated  some  of  the  venturesome  rats  with  traps; 
and  with  Bonhag's  permission,  after  his  cell  door  had  been 
properly  locked  at  night  and  sealed  with  the  outer  wooden 

734 


THE    FINANCIER 

door,  he  would  take  his  chair,  if  it  were  not  too  cold, 
out  into  the  little  yard  back  of  his  cell  and  look  at  the 
sky,  where,  when  the  nights  were  clear,  the  stars  were 
to  be  seen.  He  was  satisfied  at  times  that  he  heard  the 
footsteps  of  other  convicts  in  these  yards,  but  he  could 
not  be  sure,  the  high  walls  not  permitting  him  to  see. 
He  had  never  taken  any  interest  in  astronomy  as  a  scien 
tific  study,  but  now  the  Pleiades,  the  belt  of  Orion,  the 
Big  Dipper  and  the  North  Star,  to  which  one  of  its  lines 
pointed,  caught  his  attention,  almost  his  fancy.  He 
wondered  why  the  stars  of  the  belt  of  Orion  came  to 
assume  the  peculiar  mathematical  relation  to  each  other 
which  they  held,  as  far  as  distance  and  arrangement  were 
concerned,  and  whether  that  could  possibly  have  any 
intellectual  significance.  The  nebulous  conglomeration 
of  the  suns  in  Pleiades  suggested  a  soundless  depth  of 
space,  and  he  thought  of  the  earth  floating  like  a  little  ball 
in  immeasurable  reaches  of  ether.  His  own  life  became 
very  trivial  in  view  of  these  things,  and  he  found  himself 
asking  whether  it  was  all  really  of  any  significance  or  im 
portance.  He  shook  these  moods  off  with  ease,  however, 
for  the  man  was  possessed  of  a  sense  of  grandeur,  largely 
in  relation  to  himself  and  his  affairs,  and  his  temperament 
was  essentially  material  and  vital.  Something  kept  telling 
him  that  he  must  grow  to  be  a  significant  personage, 
one  whose  fame  would  be  heralded  the  world  over — who 
must  try,  try,  try.  It  was  not  given  all  men  to  see  far 
or  to  do  brilliantly;  but  to  him  it  was  given,  and  he  must 
be  what  he  was  cut  out  to  be.  There  was  no  more  es 
caping  the  greatness  that  was  inherent  in  him  than  there 
was  for  so  many  others  the  littleness  that  was  in  them. 

Mrs.  Cowperwood  came  in  one  afternoon  quite  solemnly, 
he  thought,  bearing  several  changes  of  linen,  a  pair  of 
sheets,  some  potted  meat  and  a  pie  which  she  wished  him 
to  have.  She  was  not  exactly  doleful,  but  Cowperwood 
thought  that  she  was  tending  toward  it,  largely  because 
of  her  brooding  over  his  relationship  to  Aileen,  which 

735 


THE    FINANCIER 

he  knew  that  she  knew.  Something  in  her  manner  de 
cided  him  to  speak  before  she  left;  and  after  asking  her 
how  the  children  were,  and  listening  to  her  inquiries  in 
regard  to  the  things  that  he  needed,  and  so  forth,  he  said 
to  her,  sitting  on  his  single  chair  while  she  sat  on  his  bed : 

"Lillian,  there's  something  I've  been  wanting  to  talk 
with  you  about  for  some  time.  I  should  have  done  it 
before,  but  it's  better  late  than  never.  I  know  that 
you  know  that  there  is  something  between  Aileen  Butler 
and  me,  and  we  might  as  well  have  it  open  and  above 
board.  I  am  very  fond  of  her,  and  if  ever  I  get  out  of 
here  I  want  to  arrange  it  so  that  I  can  marry  her.  That 
means  that  you  will  have  to  give  me  a  divorce,  if  you  will ; 
and  I  want  to  talk  to  you  about  that  now.  This  can't  be 
so  very  much  of  a  surprise  to  you,  because  you  must  have 
seen  this  long  while  that  our  relationship  hasn't  been  all 
that  it  might  have  been." 

Mrs.  Cowperwood's  thought,  when  he  first  broached 
this  proposition,  was  that  she  ought  to  make  some  demon 
stration  of  astonishment  or  wrath;  but  when  she  looked 
into  his  steady,  examining  eye,  so  free  from  the  illusion  of 
or  interest  in  demonstrations  of  any  kind,  she  realized 
how  useless  it  would  be.  He  was  so  utterly  matter-of- 
fact  in  what  seemed  to  her  quite  private  and  secret  affairs 
—very  shameless.  She  had  never  been  able  to  under 
stand  quite  how  he  could  take  the  subtleties  of  life  as  he 
did,  anyhow.  Certain  things  which  she  always  fancied 
should  be  hushed  up  he  spoke  of  with  the  greatest  non 
chalance.  Somebody's  daughter  was  a  prostitute;  some 
other  individual,  high  in  moral  affairs,  was  much  more 
than  a  squire  of  dames — he  said  so  frankly.  Her  ears 
tingled  sometimes  at  the  way  he  would  dispose  of  a  social 
situation;  but  she  thought  in  view  of  his  large  affairs 
that  somehow  this  must  be  characteristic  of  notable  men, 
and  so  there  was  nothing  to  be  said  about  it.  Certain 
men  did  as  they  pleased;  society  did  not  seem  to  be  able 
to  deal  with  them  in  any  way.  Perhaps  God  would,  later 

736 


THE    FINANCIER 

— she  was  not  sure.  Anyhow,  bad  as  he  was,  direct  as 
he  was,  forceful  as  he  was,  he  was  far  more  interesting 
than  some  of  the  more  conservative  type  in  whom  the 
social  virtues  of  polite  speech  and  modest  thoughts  were 
seemingly  more  predominate. 

"I  know,  Frank,"  she  said,  rather  peacefully,  although 
with  a  touch  of  anger  and  resentment  in  her  voice.  "I've 
known  all  about  it  all  this  time.  I  expected  you  would 
say  something  like  this  to  me  some  day.  It's  a  nice  re 
ward  for  all  my  devotion  to  you;  but  it's  just  like  you, 
Frank.  When  you  are  set  on  something,  nothing  can  stop 
you.  It  wasn't  enough  that  you  were  getting  along  so 
nicely  and  had  two  children  whom  you  ought  to  love, 
but  you  had  to  take  up  with  this  Butler  creature  until  her 
name  and  yours  are  a  by- word  throughout  the  city.  I 
know  that  she  comes  to  this  prison.  I  saw  her  out  here 
one  day  as  I  was  coming  in,  and  I  suppose  every  one  else 
knows  it  by  now.  I  should  think  you  would  be  ashamed, 
Frank,  to  go  on  the  way  that  you  have,  when  you  are  cer 
tain  to  have  such  a  hard  fight  to  get  yourself  on  your  feet, 
as  it  is.  If  she  had  any  sense  of  decency  she  would  not 
have  anything  to  do  with  you — the  shameless  thing." 

Cowperwood  looked  at  his  wife  with  unflinching  eyes. 
He  expected  some  such  outburst,  of  course;  it  was  natural 
that  she  should  feel  grieved  and  angry.  He  did  not  mind 
that  she  called  Aileen  a  "thing"  and  a  "creature."  Of 
course  Aileen  was  a  strumpet  in  her  eyes ;  but  what  of  it  ? 
He  read  in  her  remarks  just  what  his  observation  had 
long  since  confirmed — that  she  was  sympathetically  out  of 
touch  with  him.  He  was  a  very  different  man  from  the 
one  he  had  been  thirteen  years  before  when  he  married  her. 
She  was  no  longer  so  attractive  physically,  and  intellec 
tually  she  was  not  Aileen's  equal.  Socially  she  was  not  so 
much ;  he  had  learned  that  long  since.  Many  of  the  society 
women  who  had  deigned  to  grace  his  home  in  his  greatest 
hour  of  prosperity  had  proved  that  to  him  conclusively. 
Aileen  was  not  so  vastly  better,  but  she  was  young  and 

737 


THE    FINANCIER 

could  be  improved.  Opportunity  would  make  Aileen. 
It  had  not  been  able  to  make  Mrs.  Cowperwood.  The 
thing  to  do  was  to  make  it  perfectly  clear  to  her  now 
that  the  day  of  their  comfortable  marital  relationship  was 
over,  and  that  it  would  be  much  better  and  simpler,  from 
all  points  of  view,  to  have  her  forsake  him,  set  him  free. 
He  would  provide  for  her  and  the  children  properly,  as 
he  saw  that  his  means  would  permit — very  liberally,  no 
doubt,  later  on — but  just  now  she  must  let  him  go,  set 
him  free,  so  that  when  he  came  out  of  prison  he  would 
be  at  liberty  to  do  as  he  chose.  This  was  the  very  im 
portant  business  in  hand. 

"I'll  tell  you  how  it  is,  Lillian,"  he  said;  "I'm  not  sure 
that  you  are  going  to  get  what  I  mean  exactly,  but  you 
and  I  are  not  at  all  well  suited  to  each  other  any  more." 

"You  didn't  seem  to  think  that  three  or  four  years 
ago,"  interrupted  his  wife,  bitterly. 

"I  married  you  when  I  was  twenty-one,"  went  on 
Cowperwood,  quite  brutally,  not  paying  any  attention 
to  her  interruption,  "and  I  was  really  too  young  to  know 
what  I  was  doing.  I  was  a  mere  boy.  It  doesn't  make  so 
much  difference  about  that.  I  am  not  using  that  as  an 
excuse.  The  point  that  I  am  trying  to  make  is  this — 
that  right  or  wrong,  important  or  not  important,  I  have 
changed  my  mind  since.  I  don't  love  you  any  more,  and 
I  don't  feel  that  I  want  to  keep  up  a  relationship,  however 
it  may  look  to  the  public,  that  is  not  satisfactory  to  me. 
You  have  one  point  of  view  about  life,  and  I  have  another. 
You  think  your  point  of  view  is  the  right  one,  and  there 
are  thousands  of  people  who  will  agree  with  you ;  but  I  don't 
think  so.  We  have  never  quarreled  about  these  things, 
because  I  didn't  think  it  was  important  to  quarrel  about 
them.  I  don't  see  under  the  circumstances  that  I  am 
doing  you  any  great  injustice  when  I  ask  you  to  let  me 
go.  I  don't  intend  to  desert  you  or  the  children — you 
will  get  a  good  living-income  from  me  as  long  as  I  have 
the  money  to  give  it  to  you — but  I  want  my  personal 

738 


THE    FINANCIER 

freedom  when  I  come  out  of  here,  if  ever  I  do,  and  I  want 
you  to  let  me  have  it.  The  money  that  you  had  and  a 
great  deal  more  you  will  get  back  when  I  am  on  my  feet 
again."  He  smoothed  the  leg  of  his  prison  trousers  in  a 
thoughtful  way,  and  plucked  at  the  sleeve  of  his  coat. 
Just  now  he  looked  very  much  like  a  highly  intelligent 
workman  as  he  sat  here,  rather  than  like  the  important 
personage  that  he  was. 

Mrs.  Cowperwood  was  very  resentful.  Her  feeling 
that  Cowperwood  needed  her,  in  spite  of  his  misconduct, 
and  that,  if  given  a  chance,  the  crash  that  the  error  of 
his  way  had  brought  about  would  cause  him  to  reform, 
was  hereby  set  at  naught.  His  assurance  that  he  would 
take  care  of  her,  however,  and  return  her  her  money, 
however  material  and  objectionable  it  might  seem  on 
that  score,  had  real  value,  for  it  set  at  rest  her  fears  as  to 
her  own  fate  financially,  and  that  of  the  children.  In  so 
far  as  money  matters  were  concerned,  his  word  was  as 
good  as  his  bond.  He  would  do  what  he  said  if  he  had  it 
to  do  with.  Nevertheless  she  resented  his  looking  upon 
money  as  the  sole  consideration. 

' '  That's  a  nice  way  to  treat  me !"  she  exclaimed,  dramati 
cally,  rising  and  walking  the  short  space — some  two  steps 
— that  lay  between  the  wall  and  the  bed.  "  I  might  have 
known  that  you  were  too  young  to  know  your  own  mind 
when  you  married  me.  Money,  of  course,  that's  all  you 
think  of  and  your  own  gratification.  You  haven't  any 
sense  of  justice  in  you,  I  do  believe.  I  never  saw  such  a 
man  as  you  are.  You  have  treated  me  like  a  dog  all 
through  this  affair;  and  all  the  while  you  have  been 
running  with  that  little  snip  of  an  Irish  thing,  and  telling 
her  all  about  your  affairs,  I  suppose.  You  let  me  go  on 
believing  that  you  care  for  me  up  to  the  last  moment,  and 
then  you  suddenly  step  up  and  tell  me  that  you  want  a 
divorce.  I'll  not  do  it.  I'll  not  be  put  upon  in  this  way. 
I'll  not  give  you  a  divorce,  and  you  needn't  think  it." 

Mrs.  Cowperwood  went  on  to  complain  of  his  in- 

.739 


THE    FINANCIER 

difference  to  his  children  and  to  her,  long  before  Aileen 
Butler  appeared  as  a  direct  influence  in  his  affairs. 

Cowperwood  listened  in  silence.  His  position,  in  so  far 
as  this  marital  tangle  was  concerned,  was  very  advan 
tageous.  He  was  a  convict,  to  be  out  of  personal  contact 
with  his  wife  for  a  long  period  of  time  to  come,  which 
would  gradually  school  her  to  do  without  him.  When 
he  came  out  it  would  be  very  easy  for  her  to  get  a  divorce 
from  a  convict,  particularly  if  she  could  allege  miscon 
duct  with  another  woman,  which  he  would  not  deny. 
He  hoped  to  keep  the  name  of  Aileen  out  of  it.  She 
could  give  any  false  name  if  he  made  no  contest.  Mrs. 
Cowperwood  was  not  a  very  strong  person,  intellec 
tually  and  temperamentally  speaking.  He  could  bend 
her  to  his  will.  There  was  no  need  of  saying  much  more 
now;  the  ice  had  been  broken,  the  situation  had  been  put 
before  her,  and  time  would  do  the  rest.  Mrs.  Cowper 
wood,  who  was  dressed  in  a  dark,  inconspicuous  brown, 
stood  in  the  short  space  between  the  bed  and  the 
wall,  wringing  her  hands,  thinking  over  her  multiplied 
woes. 

"Don't  be  dramatic,  Lillian,"  commented  Cowper 
wood,  indifferently.  "I'm  not  such  a  loss  to  you  if  you 
have  enough  to  live  on,  I  don't  think  I  want  to  live  in 
Philadelphia  if  ever  I  come  out  of  here.  My  idea  is  to  go 
West,  and  I  think  I  want  to  go  alone.  I  sha'n't  get  mar 
ried  right  away  again  even  if  you  do  give  me  a  divorce.  I 
don't  care  to  take  anybody  along.  It  would  be  better  for 
the  children  if  you  would  stay  here  and  divorce  me. 
The  public  would  think  better  of  them  and  you." 

Cowperwood  was  very  specious.  He  did  not  think 
half  so  badly  of  his  future  as  he  said. 

"I'll  not  do  it,"  declared  Mrs.  Cowperwood.  "I'll 
never  do  it,  never;  so  there!  You  can  say  what  you 
choose.  You  owe  it  to  me  to  stick  by  me  and  the  children 
after  all  I've  done  for  you,  and  I'll  not  do  it.  You  needn't 
ask  me  any  more;  I'll  not  do  it." 

740 


THE    FINANCIER 

"Very  well,"  replied  Cowperwood,  quietly,  getting  up. 
"We  needn't  talk  about  it  any  more  now.  Your  time 
is  nearly  up,  anyhow."  (Twenty  minutes  was  supposed 
to  be  the  regular  allotment  for  visitors.)  "Perhaps  you'll 
change  your  mind  sometime." 

Mrs.  Cowperwood,  whose  life  now,  for  some  reason 
(although  her  husband  was  in  the  penitentiary  and  des 
tined  apparently  to  remain  there  for  years  more),  seemed 
clouded  over,  gathered  up  her  muff  and  the  shawl-strap 
in  which  she  had  carried  her  gifts,  and  turned  to  go. 
It  had  been  her  custom  to  kiss  Cowperwood  in  a  make- 
believe  way,  but  it  was  not  worth  while  doing  so  any 
more,  so  angry  was  she.  And  yet  she  was  sorry,  too — 
sorry  for  herself  and,  she  thought,  for  him. 

"Frank,"  she  declared,  dramatically,  at  the  last  mo 
ment,  "I  never  saw  such  a  man  as  you.  I  don't  believe 
you  have  any  heart.  You're  not  worthy  of  a  good  wife. 
You're  worthy  of  just  such  a  woman  as  you're  getting. 
The  idea!"  Suddenly  tears  came  in  her  eyes,  and  she 
flounced  scornfully  and  yet  sorrowfully  out. 

Cowperwood  stood  there.  At  least  there  would  be 
no  more  useless  kissing  between  them,  he  congratulated 
himself.  It  was  hard  in  a  way,  but  purely  from  an  emo 
tional  point  of  view.  He  was  not  doing  her  any  essential 
injustice,  he  reasoned — not  an  economic  one — which  was 
the  important  thing.  The  children  would  not  be  injured, 
any  more  than  they  had  been.  He  would  look  after  them 
properly  in  the  future.  She  was  angry  to-day,  but  she 
would  get  over  it,  and  in  time  come  to  see  his  point  of  view. 
He  reminded  one  of  nothing  so  much,  as  he  stood  there,  as 
of  a  young  chicken  picking  its  way  out  of  the  shell  of  an  old 
estate.  Although  he  was  in  a  cell  of  a  penitentiary,  with 
nearly  four  years  more  to  serve,  he  felt,  within  him 
self,  that  the  whole  world  was  still  before  him.  He  could 
go  West  if  he  could  not  re-establish  himself  in  Philadel 
phia;  but  he  must  stay  here  long  enough  to  win  the  ap 
proval  of  those  who  had  known  him  formerly — to  obtain, 


THE    FINANCIER 

as  it  were,  a  letter  of  credit  which  he  could  carry  to  other 
parts. 

"Hard  words  break  no  bones,"  he  said  to  himself, 
referring  to  what  Mrs.  Cowperwood  had  said  of  him  and 
Aileen,  and  then  thinking  of  his  future  and  what  he  might 
do.  "A  man's  never  done  till  he's  done.  I'll  show  some 
of  these  people  yet."  Of  Bonhag,  who  came  to  close 
the  cell  door,  he  asked  whether  it  was  going  to  rain,  it 
looked  so  dark  in  the  hall. 

"It's  sure  to  before  night,"  replied  Bonhag,  who  was 
wondering  over  Cowperwood's  tangled  affairs  as  he  heard 
them  retailed  here  and  there. 

The  ex-financier  fell  to  working  at  his  allotment  of 
chairs,  measuring  the  withes  and  driving  in  the  pegs, 
wondering  what  else  he  could  do  to  further  his  future, 
which  was  sure  to  come — and  soon,  he  thought. 


CHAPTER  LXXII 

THE  time  that  Cowperwood  spent  in  the  Eastern 
Penitentiary  of  Pennsylvania  was  exactly  thirteen 
months  from  the  day  of  his  entry  to  his  discharge.  The 
influences  which  brought  about  this  result  were  partly 
of  his  willing,  and  partly  not.  For  one  thing,  some  six 
months  after  he  had  been  incarcerated,  Edward  Malia 
Butler  died,  expired  sitting  in  his  chair  in  his  private 
office  at  his  home.  The  conduct  of  Aileen  had  been  a 
great  strain  on  him,  and  his  contest  with  Cowperwood, 
aiding  in  the  latter's  incarceration  as  he  had,  had  not 
helped  his  peace  of  mind.  Butler  knew  that  Cowperwood, 
outside  of  his  liaison  with  Aileen,  was  no  more  guilty  than 
scores  of  others  who  were  out  and  walking  around.  Still 
he  did  not  regret  his  own  attitude.  The  thing  that  did 
weigh  on  him  was  the  fact  that  from  the  time  Cowperwood 
had  been  sentenced,  and  more  particularly  after  the  time 
he  had  cried  on  Aileen' s  shoulder  in  prison,  she  had  turned 
on  her  father  in  an  almost  brutal  way.  Her  attitude,  un 
natural  as  a  child,  was  quite  explicable  as  that  of  a  tortured 
sweetheart.  Cowperwood  had  told  her  that  he  thought 
Butler  was  using  his  influence  to  withhold  a  pardon 
for  him,  even  though  one  were  granted  to  Stener,  whose 
life  in  prison  he  had  been  following  with  considerable 
interest;  and  this  had  enraged  her  beyond  measure. 
Bonhag  carried  news  of  Stener 's  comforts  and  the  manner 
in  which  his  friends  were  looking  after  his  future  to 
Cowperwood,  and  from  the  outside  Steger  and  Wingate, 
who  were  looking  after  Cowperwood's  petition,  informed 
him  that  they  understood  that  the  governor  was  not 
favorably  inclined,  and  would  have  to  be  worked  on. 

743 


THE    FINANCIER 

Stener  was  sure  to  be  pardoned  out  in  the  course  of 
time — he  not  so  sure;  and  the  reason  that  Stener's  pardon 
was  delayed  was  on  account  of  him.  Aileen  lost  no  chance 
of  being  practically  insulting  to  her  father,  ignoring  him 
on  every  occasion,  refusing  as  often  as  possible  to  eat  at 
the  same  table,  and  when  she  did,  sitting  next  her  mother 
in  the  place  of  Norah,  with  whom  she  managed  to  ex 
change.  She  refused  to  sing  or  play  any  more  when  he 
was  present,  and  cut  to  the  quick  the  large  number  of 
young  political  aspirants  who  came  to  the  house,  and 
whose  presence  in  a  way  had  been  encouraged  for  her 
benefit.  Old  Butler  realized,  of  course,  what  it  was  all 
about.  He  said  nothing.  He  could  not  placate  her.  Her 
mother  and  brothers  did  not  understand  it  at  all  at  first. 
(Mrs.  Butler  never  understood.)  But  not  long  after 
Cowperwood  had  gone  to  the  penitentiary  Callum  and 
Owen  became  aware  of  what  the  trouble  was  in  several 
ways,  which  complicated  matters  for  Butler  greatly.  Once, 
when  Owen  was  coming  away  from  a  reception  at  one 
of  the  houses  where  his  growing  financial  importance 
made  him  welcome,  he  heard  one  of  two  men  whom  he 
knew  casually,  but  who  were  not  friends  of  his,  say 
to  the  other,  as  they  stood  at  the  door  adjusting  their 
coats,  "You  saw  where  this  fellow  Cowperwood  got 
four  years,  didn't  you?" 

"Yes,"  replied  the  other.  "A  clever  devil  that — wasn't 
he?  I  knew  that  girl  he  was  in  with,  too — you  know  who 
I  mean — Miss  Butler — wasn't  that  her  name?" 

Owen,  who  was  waiting  for  his  hat  some  distance  back 
in  the  hall,  was  not  sure  that  he  heard  right  or  that  the 
Miss  Butler  referred  to  was  Aileen.  He  did  not  get  the 
connection  until  the  other  guest,  opening  the  door  and 
stepping  out,  remarked:  "Well,  old  Butler  got  even, 
apparently.  They  say  he  sent  him  up." 

Owen's  brow  clouded.  A  hard,  contentious  look  came 
in  his  eyes.  He  had  much  of  his  father's  force.  What 
in  the  devil  were  they  talking  about?  What  Miss  Butler 

744 


THE    FINANCIER 

did  they  have  in  mind?  Could  this  be  Aileen  or  Norah, 
and  how  could  Cowperwood  come  to  be  in  with  either  of 
them  ?  It  could  not  possibly  be  Norah,  he  reflected ;  she  was 
very  much  infatuated  with  a  young  man  whom  he  knew, 
and  was  going  to  marry  him.  Aileen  had  been  most 
friendly  with  the  Cowperwoods,  and  had  often  spoken 
well  of  the  financier.  Could  it  be  she?  He  could  not 
believe  it.  He  thought  once  of  overtaking  the  two  ac 
quaintances  and  demanding  to  know  what  they  meant, 
but  when  he  came  out  on  the  step  they  were  already  some 
distance  down  the  street  and  in  the  opposite  direction 
from  that  in  which  he  wished  to  go.  He  hesitated,  and 
decided  that  he  could  look  them  up  later  if  he  chose. 
Meantime  he  proposed  to  ask  his  father  about  this  and 
find  out  what  he  knew. 

On  demand,  old  Butler  confessed  at  once,  but  insisted 
that  his  son  keep  silent  about  it.  "He's  in  prison  now," 
he  explained,  without  telling  Owen  all  the  hell  he  him 
self  had  been  through,  "and  he'll  stay  there  if  I  have 
my  way.  No  good  '11  come  of  tellin'  about  it  now.  Yer 
mother  don't  know,  and  it's  good  that  she  doesn't.  I'm 
not  through  with  him  yet,  but  let  that  stand." 

"I  wish  I'd  have  known,"  said  Owen,  grimly.  "I'd 
have  shot  the  man  down." 

"Aisy,  aisy,"  said  Butler.  "Yer  own  life's  worth 
more  than  his,  and  ye'd  only  be  draggin'  the  rest  of 
yer  family  in  the  dirt  with  him.  He's  had  somethin'  to 
pay  him  for  his  dirty  trick,  and  he'll  have  more.  Just 
ye  say  nothin'  to  no  one.  Wait.  He'll  be  wantin'  to 
get  out  in  a  year  or  two.  Say  nothin'  to  her  aither.  Talkin' 
won't  help  there.  She'll  come  to  her  sinses  when  he's 
been  away  long  enough,  I'm  thinkin'." 

Owen  tried  to  be  civil  to  his  sister,  but  since  he  was  a 
stickler  for  social  perfection  and  advancement,  and  so 
eager  to  get  up  in  the  world  himself,  he  could  not  under 
stand  how  she  could  possibly  have  done  any  such  thing. 
He  resented  bitterly  the  stumbling-block  she  had  put  in 

745 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

his  path.  Now,  among  other  things,  his  enemies  would 
have  this  to  throw  in  his  face  if  they  wanted  to — and 
they  would  want  to,  trust  life  for  that. 

Callum  reached  his  knowledge  of  the  matter  in  quite 
another  manner,  but  at  about  the  same  time.  He  was  a 
member  of  a  very  distinguished  athletic  club  which 
had  an  attractive  building  in  the  city,  and  a  fine  country 
club,  where  tennis,  cricket,  'and  lacrosse  were  played. 
It  was  in  the  club  building  in  the  city,  where  he  went 
occasionally  of  a  week-day  evening  to  enjoy  the  swim 
ming-pool  and  the  Turkish  bath  connected  with  it,  that 
he  came  into  his  first  knowledge  of  the  situation.  Like 
all  organizations  of  this  character,  the  club  was  divided 
up  into  cliques  and  rings  of  the  young  bloods.  Callum, 
like  others,  and  because  of  his  own  and  his  father's  promi 
nence,  had  strong  friends  and  enemies.  It  was  rumored 
around  this  organization  some  time  before  Cowperwood 
went  to  jail  that  Aileen  was  connected  with  him  in  a 
clandestine  manner,  and  that  that  was  why  he  was  going 
to  prison.  One  of  the  young  men  who  was  exceedingly 
friendly  to  Callum  came  to  him  in  the  billiard-room  one 
evening  and  said,  "Say,  Butler,  you  know  I'm  a  good 
friend  of  yours,  don't  you?" 

"Why,  certainly,  I  know  it,"  replied  Callum,  with  that 
bonhomie  which  characterizes  the  feeling  of  young  men 
who  run  together  at  the  age  of  twenty-seven.  "  What's 
the  matter?" 

"Well,  you  know,"  said  the  young  individual — whose 
name  was  Richard  Pethick,  and  who  had  an  insane  desire 
to  be  associated  with  the  best  of  the  social  element 
within  his  ken — looking  at  Callum  with  a  look  of  almost 
strained  affection,  "I  wouldn't  come  to  you  with  any 
story  that  I  thought  would  hurt  your  feelings  or  that 
you  oughtn't  to  know  about,  but  I  do  think  you  ought 
to  know  about  this."  He  pulled  at  a  high  white  collar 
which  was  choking  his  neck,  and  straightened  his  tie,  in 
which  was  located  a  perfect  emerald. 

746 


THE    FINANCIER 

"I  know  you  wouldn't,  Pethick,"  replied  Callum, 
very  much  interested.  "What  is  it?  What's  the  point?" 

"Well,  I  don't  like  to  say  anything,  as  much  as  I  like 
you,"  replied  Pethick,  whose  trousers  were  unduly  nar 
row,  after  the  mode  of  the  season,  ' '  but  that  young  Hibbs 
is  saying  things  around  here  about  your  sister." 

"What's  that?"  exclaimed  Callum,  straightening  up 
in  the  noble  fashion  made  and  provided  for  all  such 
cases.  There  is  a  standard  of  conduct  which  applies  to 
every  situation  in  all  these  would-be  realms  of  perfection. 
They  have  a  theory  as  to  how  one  should  conduct  himself 
on  each  and  every  occasion — marriage,  birth,  death, 
adultery,  family  scandals,  and  so  on — to  say  nothing  of 
the  ordinary  polite  occasions  such  as  dinners,  receptions, 
and  the  like.  It  is  understood,  Heaven  knows  on  what 
authority,  just  how  one  must  look  and  act.  The  eye 
brows  must  be  raised  in  a  well-defined  way,  the  face 
must  blanch  in  a  histrionic  manner;  one  must  under 
many  circumstances  look  taut  and  dramatic,  but  always 
dignified  and  refined.  On  this  occasion  Callum  did  so  on 
the  instant. 

"What  is  it  he  says  about  my  sister?  What  right  has 
he  to  mention  her  name  here,  anyhow?  He  doesn't  know 
her." 

"Now  don't  get  mad,  Callum;  please  don't,  I  beg  you," 
pleaded  Pethick,  feeling  himself  to  be  the  center  of  a  most 
important  event.  Something  really  exciting  was  about 
to  happen  here,  and  he  was  the  cause  of  it.  A  distingue 
row  between  men  of  real  distinction.  Oh,  joy,  oh,  pride ! 
what  could  be  more  important?  He  laid  a  restraining 
hand  on  Callum's  arm,  but  the  latter,  half  angrily,  half 
histrionically,  pushed  it  away. 

"What  was  it  he  said?"  he  asked.  "Tell  me  that. 
What  did  he  say?" 

Pethick  affected  to  be  greatly  concerned  lest  he  cause 
trouble  between  Callum  and  Hibbs.  He  protested  that 
he  did  not  want  to,  when  he  was  dying  to  tell.  "Why, 

747 


THE    FINANCIER 

he's  circulated  the  yarn  that  your  sister  had  something 
to  do  with  this  man  Cowperwood,  and  that  that's  why 
he's  just  gone  to  prison." 

"What's  that?"  exclaimed  Callum,  losing  the  make- 
believe  of  the  unimportant,  and  taking  on  the  serious 
mien  of  some  one  who  feels  desperately.  "He  says  that, 
does  he?  Where  is  he?  I  want  to  see  if  he'll  say  that 
to  me." 

Some  of  the  grim  fighting  ability  of  his  father  showed 
in  his  slender,  rather  refined  young  face. 

"Now,  Callum,"  insisted  Pethick,  realizing  the  genuine 
storm  he  had  raised,  and  being  a  little  fearful  of  the  re 
sult,  "do  be  careful  what  you  say.  You  mustn't  have  a 
row  in  here.  It's  against  the  rules.  He  may  be  drunk. 
It's  just  some  foolish  talk  he's  heard.  Now  for  goodness' 
sake  don't  get  so  excited." 

Callum 's  face  was  quite  pale,  and  he  was  moving  toward 
the  old  English  grill-room,  where  Hibbs  was  supposed 
to  be.  The  latter,  Harry  Hibbs,  the  son  of  a  wooden- 
ware  manufacturer,  was  consuming  a  brandy-and-soda 
with  a  friend  of  about  his  own  age  when  Callum  entered 
and  called  him. 

"Oh,  Hibbs!"  he  said. 

Hibbs,  hearing  his  voice  and  seeing  him  in  the  door, 
arose  and  came  over.  He  was  an  interesting  youth  of 
the  collegiate  type,  educated  at  Princeton,  and  idling 
rather  easily  in  a  position  of  his  father's  bestowal.  He 
had  heard  the  rumor  concerning  Aileen  from  various 
sources — other  members  of  the  club,  for  one — and  had 
ventured  to  repeat  it  in  Pethick's  presence.  There  were 
other  club-men  drinking  in  the  grill-room,  and  reading 
in  the  general  lobby,  which  Pethick  and  Callum  had 
crossed. 

"What's  that  you  were  just  saying  about  my  sister?" 
asked  Callum,  grimly,  looking  Hibbs  in  the  eye  and 
shoving  his  ringed  right  hand  in  his  coat  pocket. 

"Why — I — "  hesitated  Hibbs,  who  sensed  trouble 'and 

748 


THE    FINANCIER 

who  was  eager  to  avoid  it.  He  was  not  exceptionally 
brave  and  looked  it.  His  hair  was  straw-colored,  his  eyes 
blue,  and  his  cheeks  pink.  "Why — nothing  in  particular. 
Who  said  I  was  talking  about  her?"  He  looked  at  Pethick, 
whom  he  knew  to  be  the  tale-bearer,  and  the  latter  ex 
claimed,  excitedly: 

"Now  don't  you  try  to  deny  it,  Hibbs.  You  know  I 
heard  you?" 

"Well,  what  did  I  say?"  asked  Hibbs,  defiantly,  who 
despised  Pethick,  and  who  now  realized  the  mistake  of 
ever  having  made  friends  with  him. 

"Well,  what  did  you  say?"  interrupted  Callum,  grimly, 
transferring  the  conversation  to  himself.  "That's  just 
what  I  want  to  know." 

"Why,"  stammered  Hibbs,  nervously,  "I  don't  think 
I've  said  anything  that  anybody  else  hasn't  said.  I  just 
repeated  that  some  one  said  that  your  sister  had  been 
very  friendly  with  Mr.  Cowperwood.  I  didn't  say  any 
more  than  I  have  heard  other  people  say  around  here." 

"Oh,  you  didn't,  did  you?"  exclaimed  Callum,  with 
drawing  his  ringed  hand  from  his  pocket  and  slapping 
Hibbs  in  the  face.  He  repeated  the  blow  with  his  left 
hand,  fiercely.  "Perhaps  that'll  teach  you  to  keep  my 
sister's  name  out  of  your  mouth,  you  pup!" 

Hibbs 's  arms  flew  up.  He  was  not  without  pugilistic 
training,  and  he  struck  back  vigorously,  striking  Callum 
once  in  the  chest  and  once  in  the  neck.  In  an  instant 
the  two  rooms  were  in  an  uproar.  Tables  and  chairs  were 
almost  upset  by  the  energy  of  men  attempting  to  get  to 
the  scene  of  action.  The  two  combatants  were  instantly 
separated;  sides  were  taken  by  the  friends  of  each, 
excited  explanations  attempted  and  defied.  Callum  was 
examining  the  knuckles  of  his  left  hand,  which  were  cut 
from  the  blow  he  had  delivered.  He  maintained  a  gentle 
manly  calm.  Hibbs  was  very  much  flustered  and  ex 
cited.  He  maintained  that  Pethick  had  been  eaves 
dropping  and  lying  about  him.  The  latter  was  protesting 

749 


THE    FINANCIER 

that  he  had  done  the  only  thing  which  an  honorable 
friend  could  do.  It  was  a  nine  days'  wonder  in  the  club, 
and  was  only  kept  out  of  the  newspapers  by  the  most 
strenuous  efforts  on  the  part  of  the  friends  of  both  parties. 
Callum  was  so  outraged  on  discovering  that  there  was 
some  foundation  for  the  rumor  at  the  club  in  a  general 
rumor  which  prevailed  that  he  tendered  his  resignation, 
and  never  went  there  again.  Pethick  was  in  glory  for 
several  months,  the  center  and  retailer  of  a  scandal. 
Callum  went  to  Owen  for  an  explanation,  who  gave  him 
one  quickly. 

"The  thing  to  do,"  he  said,  in  conclusion,  "is  to  hush 
this  thing  up.  Say  nothing.  I  wish  to  heaven  you 
hadn't  struck  that  fellow.  It  will  only  make  more  talk. 
She  ought  to  leave  this  place;  but  she  won't.  She's 
struck  on  that  fellow  yet,  and  we  can't  tell  Norah  and 
mother.  We  will  never  hear  the  last  of  this,  you  and  I — 
believe  me." 

"By  damn,  she  ought  to  be  made  to  go,"  exclaimed 
Callum. 

"Well,  she  won't,"  replied  Owen.  "Father  has  tried 
making  her,  and  she  won't  go.  Just  let  things  stand. 
He's  in  the  penitentiary  now,  and  that's  probably 
the  end  of  him.  The  public  seem  to  think  that  father 
put  him  there,  and  that's  something.  Maybe  we  can 
persuade  her  to  go  after  a  while.  I  wish  to  God  we  had 
never  had  sight  of  that  fellow.  If  ever  he  comes  out, 
I've  a  good  notion  to  kill  him." 

"Oh,  I  wouldn't  do  anything  like  that,"  replied  Callum. 
"It's  useless.  It  would  only  stir  things  up  afresh.  He's 
done  for,  anyhow.  It's  all  over  except  the  talk  about  it — 
but  good  God!" 

They  planned  to  urge  Norah  to  marry  as  soon  as  pos 
sible.  And  as  for  their  feelings  toward  Aileen,  it  was  a 
very  chilly  atmosphere  which  Mrs.  Butler  contemplated 
from  now  on,  much  to  her  confusion,  grief,  and  astonish 
ment.  4, 

750 


THE    FINANCIER 

These  occurrences  left  Aileen  lonely  and  brooding;  but 
she  had  Cowperwood  for  comfort.  Her  attitude  toward 
her  father  did  not  help  the  situation  any;  and  in  this 
divided  world  Butler  found  himself  all  at  sea  as  to  what  to 
think  or  what  to  do.  He  brooded  deeply  for  months,  find 
ing  no  solution  of  the  situation,  and  finally,  in  a  form  of  re 
ligious  despair,  collapsed  in  his  business  chair,  sitting  at 
his  desk.  A  lesion  of  the  left  ventricle  was  the  immediate 
cause.  They  found  him  there  the  next  morning,  his  hands 
folded  in  his  lap,  his  head  on  his  bosom,  quite  cold.  His 
death  could  not  have  been  laid  to  his  grief  over  Aileen 
exactly,  for  he  was  a  very  large  man — apoplectic  and  with 
sclerotic  veins  and  arteries.  For  a  great  many  years  now 
he  had  taken  very  little  exercise,  and  his  digestion  had 
been  considerably  impaired  thereby.  He  was  nearing 
seventy,  and  his  time  had  been  reached. 

He  was  buried  with  honors  out  of  St.  Timothy's  Church, 
the  funeral  attended  by  a  large  body  of  politicians  and  city 
officials,  who  discussed  secretly  among  themselves  whether 
the  career  of  his  daughter  had  anything  to  do  with  his 
end.  All  his  good  deeds  were  remembered,  of  course,  and 
Mollenhauer  and  Simpson  sent  great  floral  emblems  in  re 
membrance.  They  were  very  sorry  that  he  was  gone,  for 
they  had  been  a  cordial  three.  But  gone  he  was,  and  that 
ended  their  interest  in  the  matter.  Butler  had  left  all 
his  property  to  his  wife  in  one  of  the  shortest  wills  ever 
recorded  locally. 

"I  give  and  bequeath  to  my  beloved  wife,  Norah,  all  my 
property  of  whatsoever  kind  to  be  disposed  of  as  she  may 
see  fit." 

There  was  no  misconstruing  this.  A  private  paper 
drawn  secretly  for  her  sometime  before  by  Butler,  ex 
plained  how  the  property  should  be  disposed  of  by  her  at 
her  death.  It  was  Butler's  real  will  masquerading  as  hers, 
and  she  would  not  have  changed  it  for  worlds;  but  he 
wanted  her  left  in  undisturbed  possession  of  everything 
until  she  should  die.  Aileen's  originally  assigned  portion 


THE    FINANCIER 

had  never  been  changed.  According  to  her  father's  will, 
which  no  power  under  the  sun  could  have  made  Mrs. 
Butler  alter,  she  was  left  $250,000  to  be  paid  at  Mrs. 
Butler's  death.  Neither  this  fact  nor  any  of  the  others 
contained  in  the  paper  were  communicated  by  Mrs. 
Butler,  who  retained  it  to  be  left  as  her  will.  Aileen  often 
wondered,  but  never  sought  to  know,  what  had  been  left 
her.  Nothing,  she  fancied — but  felt  that  she  could  not 
help  this. 

Butler's  death  led  at  once  to  a  great  change  in  the  tem 
per  of  the  home.  After  the  funeral  the  family  settled  down 
to  a  seemingly  peaceful  continuance  of  the  old  life ;  but  it 
was  a  matter  of  seeming  merely.  The  situation  stood  with 
Callum  and  Owen  manifesting  a  certain  degree  of  con 
tempt  for  Aileen,  which  she,  understanding,  reciprocated. 
She  was  very  haughty.  Owen  had  plans  of  forcing  her 
to  leave  after  Butler's  death,  but  he  finally  asked  him 
self  what  was  the  use.  Mrs.  Butler,  who  did  not  want 
to  leave  the  old  home,  was  very  fond  of  Aileen,  so  therein 
lay  a  reason  for  letting  her  remain.  Besides,  any  move 
to  force  her  out  would  have  entailed  an  explanation  to 
her  mother,  which  was  not  deemed  advisable.  Norah 
was  to  be  married  six  months  after  her  father  died,  and 
was  in  all  probability  to  live  in  Trenton,  where  her  hus 
band's  interests  were  located.  Callum  was  thinking  of 
getting  married  in  order  to  relieve  himself  of  the  general 
odium  of  the  situation.  He  was  very  fond  of  the  daugh 
ter  of  a  well-known  flour  manufacturer,  with  whom  the 
Butlers  were  on  social  terms,  and  who  reciprocated  his 
affection.  Owen  himself  was  interested  in  Caroline  Mol- 
lenhauer,  whom  he  hoped  some  day  to  marry — as  much 
for  her  prospective  wealth  as  her  affection,  though  he 
was  quite  fond  of  her.  In  the  January  following  Butler's 
death,  which  occurred  in  August,  Norah  was  married  very 
quietly,  and  the  following  spring  Callum  embarked  on  a 
similar  venture. 

In  the  meanwhile,  with  Butler's  death,  the  control  of 

752 


THE    FINANCI  ER 

the  political  situation  had  shifted  considerably.  A  cer 
tain  Tom  Collins,  formerly  one  of  Butler's  henchmen,  but 
latterly  a  power  in  the  First,  Second,  Third,  and  Fourth 
Wards,  where  he  had  numerous  saloons  and  control  of 
other  forms  of  vice,  appeared  as  a  claimant  for  political 
recognition.  Mollenhauer  and  Simpson  had  to  consult 
him,  as  he  could  make  very  uncertain  the  disposition  of 
some  hundred  and  fifteen  thousand  votes,  a  large  part  of 
which  were  fraudulent,  but  which  fact  did  not  modify  their 
deadly  character  on  occasion.  Mollenhauer  and  Simp 
son  had  to  pay  almost  immediate  attention  to  him  in 
the  disposition  of  certain  favors ;  and,  in  the  interest  which 
his  raw  and  forceful  personality  created,  Butler  and  his 
enmities  were  forgotten.  His  sons  disappeared  as  pos 
sible  political  factors,  and  were  compelled  to  confine 
themselves  to  the  street-railway  and  contracting  business 
— as  much  of  these  as  they  had  under  their  control.  The 
pardon  of  Cowperwood  and  Stener,  which  Butler  would 
have  opposed,  because  by  keeping  Stener  in  he  kept  Cow 
perwood  in,  became  a  much  easier  matter.  The  scandal 
of  the  treasury  defalcation  was  gradually  dying  down; 
the  newspapers  had  ceased  to  refer  to  it  in  any  way. 
Through  Steger  and  Wingate,  a  large  petition  signed  by 
all  important  financiers  and  brokers  had  been  sent  to  the 
governor  pointing  out  that  Cowperwood's  trial  and  con 
viction  had  been  most  unfair,  and  asking  that  he  be  par 
doned.  There  was  no  need  of  any  such  effort,  so  far  as 
Stener  was  concerned;  whenever  the  time  seemed  ripe 
the  politicians  were  quite  ready  to  say  to  the  governor 
that  he  ought  to  let  him  go.  It  was  only  because  Butler 
had  opposed  Cowperwood's  release  that  they  had  hesi 
tated.  It  was  really  not  possible  to  let  out  the  one  and 
ignore  the  other;  and  this  petition,  coupled  with  Butler's 
death,  cleared  the  way  very  nicely. 

Nevertheless,  nothing  was  done  until  the  March  fol 
lowing  Butler's  death,  when  both  Stener  and  Cowper 
wood  had  been  incarcerated  thirteen  months — a  length 

753 


THE    FINANCIER 

of  time  which  seemed  quite  sufficient  to  appease  the  anger 
of  the  public  at  large.  In  this  period  Stener  had  under 
gone  a  considerable  change  physically  and  mentally.  In 
spite  of  the  fact  that  a  number  of  the  minor  aldermen, 
who  had  profited  in  various  ways  by  his  largess,  had 
called  to  see  him,  and  that  he  had  been  given,  as  it  were, 
almost  the  liberty  of  the  place,  and  that  his  family  had 
not  been  allowed  to  suffer,  nevertheless  he  realized  that 
his  political  and  social  days  were  over.  Somebody  might 
now  occasionally  send  him  a  basket  of  fruit  and  assure 
him  that  he  would  not  be  compelled  to  suffer  much  longer ; 
but  when  he  did  get  out,  he  knew  that  he  had  nothing 
save  his  experience  as  an  insurance  agent  and  real-estate 
dealer  to  depend  on.  That  had  been  precarious  enough 
in  the  days  when  he  was  trying  to  get  some  small  political 
foothold.  How  would  it  be  when  he  was  known  only 
as  the  man  who  had  looted  the  treasury  of  five  hundred 
thousand  dollars  and  been  sent  to  the  penitentiary  for 
five  years?  Who  would  lend  him  the  money  wherewith 
to  get  a  little  start,  even  so  much  as  four  or  five  thousand 
dollars?  The  people  who  were  calling  to  pay  their  re 
spects  now  and  then,  and  to  assure  him  that  he  had  been 
badly  treated?  Never.  All  of  them  could  honestly 
claim  that  they  had  not  so  much  to  spare.  If  he  had 
splendid  security — yes;  but  if  he  had  splendid  security 
he  would  not  need  to  go  to  them  at  all,  and  he  had  not. 
The  man  who  would  have  actually  helped  him  if  he  had 
only  known  was  Frank  A.  Cowperwood.  Stener  could 
have  confessed  his  mistake,  as  Cowperwood  saw  it,  and 
Cowperwood  would  have  given  him  the  money  gladly, 
without  any  thought  of  return.  In  his  poor  understand 
ing  of  human  nature,  Stener  considered  that  Cowperwood 
must  be  an  enemy  of  his,  and  he  would  not  have  had 
either  the  courage  or  the  business  judgment  to  approach 
him. 

During  all  this  time,  up  to  the  day  that  he  was  dis 
charged,  Cowperwood  had  been  working  in  his  cell  and 

754 


THE    FINANCIER 

slowly  accumulating  a  little  money  through  Wingate.  He 
had  paid  Steger  considerable  sums  from  time  to  time, 
until  that  worthy  finally  decided  that  it  would  not  be  fair 
to  take  any  more. 

"If  ever  you  get  on  your  feet,  Frank,"  he  said,  "you 
can  remember  me  if  you  want  to,  but  I  don't  think  you'll 
want  to.  It's  been  nothing  but  lose,  lose,  lose  for  you 
through  me.  I'll  undertake  this  matter  of  getting  that 
appeal  to  the  governor  without  any  charge  on  my  part. 
Anything  I  can  do  for  you  from  now  on  is  free  gratis  for 
nothing." 

"Oh,  don't  talk  nonsense,  Harper,"  replied  Cowper- 
wood.  "I  don't  know  of  anybody  that  could  have  done 
better  with  my  case.  Certainly  there  isn't  anybody  that 
I  would  have  trusted  as  much.  I  don't  like  lawyers,  you 
know." 

"Yes — well,"  said  Steger,  "  they've  got  nothing  on  finan 
ciers,  so  we'll  call  it  even."  And  they  shook  hands. 

So  when  it  was  finally  decided  to  pardon  Stener  out — 
which  was  in  the  early  part  of  March,  1873 — Cowper- 
wood's  pardon  was  necessarily  but  gingerly  included.  A 
delegation,  consisting  of  Strobik,  Harmon,  and  Winpenny, 
representing,  as  it  was  intended  to  appear,  the  unanimous 
wishes  of  the  council  and  the  city  administration,  and 
speaking  for  Mollenhauer  and  Simpson,  who  had  given 
their  consent,  visited  the  governor  at  Harrisburg  and  made 
the  necessary  formal  representations  which  were  intended 
to  impress  the  public.  At  the  same  time,  through  the 
agency  of  Steger,  Davison,  and  Walter  Leigh,  the  appeal 
in  behalf  of  Cowperwood  was  made.  The  governor,  who 
had  had  instructions  beforehand  from  sources  quite 
superior  to  this  committee,  was  very  solemn  about  the 
whole  procedure.  He  would  take  the  matter  under 
advisement.  He  would  look  into  the  history  of  the 
crimes  and  the  records  of  the  two  men.  He  could  make 
no  promises — he  would  see.  So  in  ten  days,  after  allow 
ing  the  petitions  to  gather  considerable  dust  in  one  of  his 

755 


THE    FINANCIER 

pigeonholes  and  doing  absolutely  nothing  toward  investi 
gating  anything,  he  issued  two  separate  pardons  in  writ 
ing.  One,  as  a  matter  of  courtesy,  he  gave  into  the  hands 
of  Messrs.  Strobik,  Harmon,  and  Winpenny,  to  bear  per 
sonally  to  Mr.  Stener,  as  they  desired  that  he  should. 
The  other,  on  Steger's  request,  he  gave  to  him.  The 
two  committees  which  had  called  to  receive  them  then 
departed;  and  the  afternoon  of  the  day  on  which  the 
pardons  were  issued  saw  Strobik,  Harmon,  and  Winpenny 
arrive  in  one  group,  and  Steger,  Wingate,  and  Walter 
Leigh  in  another,  at  the  prison  gate,  but  at  different 
hours. 


CHAPTER   LXXIII 

THIS  matter  of  the  pardon  of  Cowperwood,  the  exact 
time  of  it,  was  kept  a  secret  from  him,  though  the 
fact  that  he  was  to  be  pardoned  soon,  or  that  he  had  a 
very  excellent  chance  of  being,  had  not  been  denied — • 
rather  had  been  made  much  of  from  time  to  time.  Win- 
gate  had  kept  him  accurately  informed  as  to  the  progress 
being  made,  as  had  Steger;  but  when  it  was  actually 
ascertained,  from  the  governor's  private  secretary,  that  a 
certain  day  would  see  the  pardon  handed  over  to  them, 
Steger,  Wingate,  and  Walter  Leigh  had  agreed  between 
themselves  that  they  would  say  nothing,  taking  Cow 
perwood  by  surprise.  They  even  went  so  far — that  is, 
Steger  and  Wingate  did — as  to  indicate  to  Cowperwood 
that  there  was  some  hitch  to  the  proceedings  and  that  he 
might  not  now  get  out  so  soon.  Cowperwood  was  some 
what  depressed,  but  properly  stoical;  he  assured  himself 
that  he  could  wait,  and  that  he  would  be  all  right  some 
time.  He  was  rather  surprised  therefore,  one  Friday 
afternoon,  to  see  Wingate,  Steger,  and  Leigh  appear  at 
his  cell  door,  accompanied  by  Warden  Desmas.  There 
had  been  a  little  tactical  arrangement  on  the  part  of 
Steger  and  Leigh,  which  saw  to  it  that  the  party  which 
was  taking  out  Stener  should  have  proper  leeway,  should 
be  gone,  in  fact,  when  they  arrived. 

Warden  Desmas,  to  whom  the  pardon  was  submitted 
on  their  arrival,  was  quite  pleased  to  think  that  Cowper 
wood  should  finally  be  going  out — he  admired  him  so 
much — and  decided  to  come  along  to  the  cell,  to  see 
how  he  would  take  his  liberation.  The  four  thus  arrived 
together,  finding  Cowperwood  hard  at  work  on  his  task 

757 


THE    FINANCIER 

of  chair-caning.  On  the  way  Desmas  commented  on  the 
fact  that  he  had  always  been  a  model  prisoner.  "He 
kept  a  little  garden  out  there  in  that  yard  of  his,"  he 
confided  to  Walter  Leigh,  whom  Steger  introduced  to 
him.  "He  had  violets  and  pansies  and  geraniums  out 
there,  and  they  did  very  well,  too." 

Leigh  smiled.  It  was  like  Cowperwood  to  be  indus 
trious  and  tasteful,  even  in  prison.  Such  a  man  could 
not  be  conquered.  "A  very  .remarkable  man,  that,"  he 
remarked  to  Desmas. 

"Very,"  replied  the  warden.  "You  can  tell  that  by 
looking  at  him." 

The  four  looked  in  through  the  barred  door  where  he 
was  working,  without  being  observed,  having  come  up 
quite  silently. 

"Hard  at  it,  Frank?"  asked  Steger. 

Cowperwood  glanced  over  his  shoulder  and  got  up. 
He  had  been  thinking,  as  always  these  days,  of  what  he 
would  do  when  he  did  get  out.  The  death  of  Butler  had 
improved  matters  much.  His  success  with  Wingate,  in 
a  small  way,  was  a  great  aid.  His  wife  had  had  time  to 
become  reconciled  to  the  thought  that  he  did  not  care 
to  live  with  her  any  longer.  Much  lay  before  him,  if 
he  did  not  suffer  some  additional  slap  from  fortune. 
Curiously,  he  had  been  feeling  these  days  that  he  could 
not — that  his  period,  his  present  period,  at  least,  of  storm 
and  stress  was  over. 

He  smiled  and  nodded  to  Steger,  Leigh,  Wingate,  and 
Warden  Desmas.  "What  is  this,"  he  asked — "a  politi 
cal  delegation?" 

He  had  suspected  something  on  the  instant.  All  four 
smiled  cheeringly,  and  Bonhag  unlocked  the  door  for  the 
warden. 

"Nothing  very  much,  Frank,"  replied  Steger,  gleefully, 
"only  you're  a  free  man.  You  can  gather  up  your  traps 
and  come  right  along,  if  you  wish." 

Cowperwood  surveyed  his  friends  with  a  level  gaze. 

758 


THE    FINANCIER 

He  had  not  expected  this  so  soon  after  what  had  been 
told  him.  He  was  not  one  to  be  very  much  interested 
in  the  practical  joke  or  the  surprise,  but  this  pleased  him — 
the  sudden  realization  that  he  was  free.  Still,  he  had 
anticipated  it  so  long  that  the  charm  of  it  had  been 
discounted  to  a  certain  extent.  He  had  been  unhappy 
here,  and  he  had  not.  The  shame  and  humiliation  of  it, 
to  begin  with,  had  been  much.  Latterly,  as  he  had 
become  inured  to  it  all,  the  sense  of  narrowness  and 
humiliation  had  worn  off.  Only  the  consciousness  of 
incarceration  and  delay  irked  him.  Barring  his  intense 
desire  for  certain  things — success  and  vindication,  prin 
cipally — he  found  that  he  could  live  in  his  narrow  cell 
and  be  fairly  comfortable.  He  had  long  since  become 
used  to  the  limy  smell  (used  to  defeat  a  more  sickening 
one),  and  to  the  numerous  rats  which  he  quite  regularly 
trapped.  He  had  learned  to  take  an  interest  in  chair- 
caning,  having  become  so  proficient  that  he  could .  seat 
twenty  in  a  day  if  he  chose,  and  in  working  in  the  little 
garden  in  spring,  summer,  and  fall,  which  had  been  per 
mitted  him.  Every  evening  he  had  studied  the  sky  from 
his  narrow  yard,  which  resulted  curiously  in  the  gift  in  later 
years  of  a  great  reflecting  telescope  to  a  famous  university. 
He  had  not  looked  upon  himself  as  an  ordinary  prisoner, 
by  any  means — had  not  felt  himself  to  be  sufficiently  pun 
ished  if  a  real  crime  had  been  involved.  From  Bonhag 
he  had  learned  the  history  of  many  criminals  here  incar 
cerated,  from  murderers  up  and  down,  and  many  had 
been  pointed  out  to  him  from  time  to  time.  He  had 
been  escorted  out  into  the  general  yard  by  Bonhag,  had 
seen  the  general  food  of  the  place  being  prepared,  had 
heard  of  Stener's  modified  life  here,  and  so  forth.  It 
had  finally  struck  him  that  it  was  not  so  bad,  only  that 
the  delay  to  an  individual  like  himself  was  wasteful.  He 
could  do  so  much  now  if  he  were  out  and  did  not  have  to 
fight  court  proceedings.  Courts  and  jails !  He  shook  his 
head  when  he  thought  of  the  waste  involved  in  them. 

759 


THE    FINANCIER 

"That's  all  right,"  he  said,  looking  around  him  in  an 
uncertain  way.  "I'm  ready. ' ' 

He  stepped  out  into  the  hall,  with  scarcely  a  farewell 
glance,  and  to  Bonhag,  who  was  grieving  greatly  over  the 
loss  of  so  profitable  a  customer,  he  said:  "  I  wish  you  would 
see  that  some  of  these  things  are  sent  over  to  my  house, 
Walter.  You're  welcome  to  the  chair,  that  clock,  this 
mirror,  those  pictures — all  of  these  things  in  fact,  except 
my  linen,  razors,  and  so  forth." 

This  last  little  act  of  beneficence  soothed  Bonhag's 
lacerated  soul  a  little.  They  went  out  into  the  receiving 
overseer's  office,  where  Cowperwood  laid  aside  his  prison 
suit  and  the  soft  shirt  with  a  considerable  sense  of  relief. 
The  clog  shoes  had  long  since  been  parted  with  for  a 
better  pair  of  his  own.  He  put  on  his  well-preserved 
derby  hat  and  his  gray  overcoat — the  one  he  had  worn 
the  year  before,  on  entering,  and  expressed  himself  as 
ready.  At  the  entrance  of  the  prison  he  turned  and 
looked  back — one  last  glance — at  the  iron  door  leading 
into  the  garden. 

"You  don't  regret  leaving  that,  do  you,  Frank?" 
asked  Steger,  curiously. 

' '  I  surely  don't, ' '  replied  Cowperwood.  ' '  It  wasn't  that  I 
was  thinking  of.  It  was  just  the  appearance  of  it,  that's  all. " 

In  another  minute  they  were  at  the  outer  gate,  where 
Cowperwood  shook  the  warden  finally  by  the  hand.  He 
and  Steger  and  Wingate  and  Leigh  then  entered  a  car 
riage  outside  the  large,  impressive,  Gothic  entrance;  the 
gates  locked  behind  them;  and  they  drove  away. 

"Well,  there's  an  end  of  that,  Frank,"  observed  Steger, 
gayly;  "that  will  never  bother  you  any  more." 

"Yes,"  replied  Cowperwood.  "It's  worse  to  see  it 
coming  than  going." 

"It  seems  to  me  we  ought  to  celebrate  this  occasion 
in  some  way,"  observed  Walter  Leigh.  "It  won't  do 
just  to  take  Frank  home.  Why  don't  we  all  go  down  to 
Green's?  That's  a  good  idea." 

760 


THE    FINANCIER 

"I  wish  you  wouldn't,  Walter,"  replied  Cowperwood, 
feelingly.  "I'll  get  together  with  you  all,  later.  Just 
now  I'd  like  to  go  home  and  change  these  clothes." 

He  was  thinking  of  Aileen  and  his  children  and  his 
mother  and  father  and  of  his  whole  future.  Life  was  going 
to  broaden  out  for  him  considerably  from  now  on,  he  was 
sure  of  it.  He  had  learned  so  much  about  taking  care  of 
himself  in  those  thirteen  months.  He  was  going  to  see 
Aileen,  and  find  how  she  felt  about  things  in  general,  and 
then  he  was  going  to  resume  some  such  duties  as  he  had 
had  in  his  own  concern,  with  Wingate  &  Co.  He  was  go 
ing  to  secure  a  seat  on  'change  again,  through  his  friends; 
and,  to  escape  the  effect  of  the  prejudice  of  those  who 
might  care  to  do  business  with  an  ex-convict,  he  was  going 
to  act  as  general  outside  man,  and  floor  man  on  'change,  for 
Wingate  &  Co.  His  practical  control  of  that  could  not  be 
publicly  proved.  Now  for  some  important  development 
in  the  market — some  slump  or  something.  He  would 
show  the  world  whether  he  was  a  failure  or  not. 

They  let  him  down  in  front  of  his  wife's  little  cottage, 
and  he  entered  briskly  in  the  gathering  gloom. 

On  September  18,  1873,  at  twelve-fifteen  high  noon  of 
a  brilliant  autumn  day,  in  the  city  of  Philadelphia,  one  of 
the  most  startling  financial  tragedies  that  the  world  has 
ever  seen  had  its  commencement.  The  banking  house  of 
Jay  Cooke  &  Co.,  the  foremost  financial  organization  of 
America,  doing  business  at  Number  114  South  Third 
Street  in  Philadelphia,  and  with  branches  in  New  York, 
Washington,  and  London,  closed  its  doors.  Those  who 
know  anything  about  the  financial  crises  of  the  United 
States  know  well  the  significance  of  the  panic  which  fol 
lowed.  It  is  spoken  of  in  all  histories  as  the  panic  of 
1873,  and  the  wide-spread  ruin  and  disaster  which  fol 
lowed  was  practically  unprecedented  in  American  history. 

At  this  time  Frank  Algernon  Cowperwood  was  once 
more  a  broker — ostensibly  a  broker's  agent — doing 
25  761 


THE    FINANCIER 

business  in  South  Third  Street,  and  representing  Win- 
gate  &  Co.  on  'change.  During  the  six  months  which 
had  elapsed  since  he  had  emerged  from  the  Eastern 
Penitentiary  he  had  been  quietly  resuming  financial,  if  not 
social,  relations  with  those  who  had  known  him  before. 

Wingate  &  Co.  were  prospering,  and  had  been  for 
some  time,  and  that  gave  him  a  good  standing.  Os 
tensibly  he  lived  with  his  wife  in  the  small  house  in  North 
Twenty-first  Street.  In  reality  he  occupied  a  bachelor 
apartment  in  North  Fifteenth  Street,  to  which  his  in 
tended  wife  occasionally  repaired.  The  difference  between 
himself  and  his  wife  had  now  become  a  matter  of  common 
knowledge  in  the  family,  and,  although  there  were  some 
faint  efforts  made  to  smooth  the  matter  over,  no  good 
came  of  it.  He  frankly  told  his  parents  that  so  far  as 
he  was  concerned  he  was  through  with  the  old  order 
of  existence,  and  from  now  on  the  paths  of  himself  and 
his  wife  would  He  in  different  directions.  The  difficulties 
of  the  last  two  years  which  they  had  experienced  had  so 
inured  his  parents  to  expect  the  untoward  and  excep 
tional  that,  astonishing  as  this  was,  it  did  not  shock  them 
so  much  as  it  would  have  years  before.  They  were  too 
much  frightened  by  life  to^  quarrel  with  its  weird  develop 
ments.  They  could  only  hope  and  pray  for  the  best. 

The  Butler  family,  on  the  other  hand,  what  there  was 
of  it,  had  become  indifferent  to  Aileen's  conduct.  She 
was  ignored  by  her  brothers  and  Norah,  who  had  heard; 
and  her  mother  was  so  taken  up  with  her  religious 
devotions  and  her  brooding  contemplation  of  her  loss 
that  she  was  not  as  active  in  her  observation  of  Aileen's 
life  as  she  might  have  been.  Besides,  Cowperwood  and 
his  mistress  were  more  circumspect  in  their  conduct  than 
they  had  ever  been  before.  Their  movements  were  more 
carefully  guarded,  though  the  result  was  the  same. 
Cowperwood  was  thinking  of  the  West — of  reaching  some 
slight  local  standing  here  in  Philadelphia,  and  then,  with 
perhaps  one  hundred  thousand  dollars  in  capital,  starting 

762 


THE    FINANCIER 

out  into  the  boundless  prairies  of  which  he  had  heard 
so  much — Chicago,  Fargo,  Duluth,  Sioux  City,  places 
then  heralded  in  Philadelphia  and  the  East  as  coming 
centers  of  great  life — and  taking  Aileen  with  him.  The 
problem  of  marriage  with  her  was  insoluble  unless  Mrs. 
Cowperwood  should  formally  agree  to  give  him  up — a 
possibility  which  was  not  manifest  at  this  time.  The 
only  thing  which  he  could  see  for  it  was  for  him  to  take 
Aileen  away  with  him,  and  to  trust  to  time  and  absence 
to  modify  his  wife's  point  of  view. 

This  particular  panic,  which  was  destined  to  mark  a 
notable  change  in  Cowperwood's  career,  was  one  of  those 
peculiar  things  which  spring  naturally  out  of  the  optimism 
of  the  American  people  and  the  irrepressible  progress  of 
the  country.  It  was  the  result,  to  be  accurate,  of  the 
prestige  and  ambition  of  Jay  Cooke,  whose  early  training 
and  subsequent  success  had  all  been  acquired  in  Philadel 
phia,  and  who  had  since  become  the  foremost  financial 
figure  of  his  day.  It  would  be  useless  to  attempt  to  trace 
here  the  rise  of  this  man  to  distinction;  it  need  only  be 
said  that  by  suggestions  which  he  made  and  methods 
which  he  devised  the  Union  government,  in  its  darkest 
hours,  was  able  to  raise  the  money  wherewith  to  continue 
the  struggle  against  the  South.  After  the  Civil  War 
this  man,  who  had  built  up  a  tremendous  banking  busi 
ness  in  Philadelphia,  with  great  branches  in  New  York  and 
Washington,  was  at  a  loss  for  some  time  for  some  sig 
nificant  thing  to  do,  some  constructive  work  which  would 
be  worthy  of  his  genius.  The  war  was  over;  the  only 
thing  which  remained  was  the  finances  of  peace,  and  the 
greatest  things  in  American  financial  enterprise  were  those 
related  to  the  construction  of  transcontinental  railway 
lines.  The  Union  Pacific,  authorized  in  1860,  wras  already 
building;  the  Northern  Pacific  and  the  Southern  Pacific 
were  already  dreams  in  various  pioneer  minds.  The 
great  thing  was  to  connect  the  Atlantic  and  the  Pacific 
by  steel,  to  bind  up  the  territorially  perfected  and  newly 

763 


THE    FINANCIER 

solidified  Union,  or  to  enter  upon  some  vast  project  of 
mining,  of  which  gold  and  silver  were  the  most  important. 
Actually  railway-building  was  the  most  significant  of  all, 
and  railroad  stocks  were  far  and  away  the  most  valuable 
and  important  on  every  exchange  in  America.  Here  in 
Philadelphia,  New  York  Central,  Rock  Island,  Wabash, 
Central  Pacific,  St.  Paul,  Hannibal  &  St.  Joseph,  Union 
Pacific,  and  Ohio  &  Mississippi  were  freely  traded  in. 
There  were  men  who  were  getting  rich  and  famous  out 
of  handling  these  things;  and  such  towering  figures  as 
William  H.  Vanderbilt,  Jay  Gould,  Daniel  Drew,  James 
Fish,  and  others  in  the  East,  and  Fair,  Crocker,  W.  R. 
Hearst,  and  Collis  P.  Huntington,  in  the  West,  were 
already  raising  their  heads  like  vast  mountains  in  con 
nection  with  these  enterprises.  Among  those  who  dreamed 
most  ardently  on  this  score  was  Jay  Cooke,  who  with 
out  the  wolfish  cunning  of  a  Gould  or  the  practical 
knowledge  of  a  Vanderbilt,  was  ambitious  to  thread 
the  northern  reaches  of  America  with  a  band  of  steel 
which  should  be  a  permanent  memorial  to  his  name. 
The  project  which  fascinated  him  most  was  one  that  re 
lated  to  the  development  of  the  territory  then  lying  al 
most  unexplored  between  the  extreme  shores  of  Lake 
Superior,  where  Duluth  now  stands,  and  that  portion 
of  the  Pacific  Ocean  into  which  the  Columbia  River 
empties — the  extreme  northern  one-third  of  the  United 
States.  Here,  if  a  railroad  were  built,  would  spring  up 
great  cities  and  prosperous  towns.  There  were,  it  was  sus 
pected,  mines  of  various  metals  in  the  region  of  the  Rockies 
which  this  railroad  would  traverse,  and  untold  wealth  to 
be  reaped  from  the  fertile  corn  and  wheat  lands.  Products 
brought  only  so  far  east  as  Duluth  could  then  be  shipped 
to  the  Atlantic,  via  the  Great  Lakes  and  the  Erie  Canal, 
at  a  greatly  reduced  cost.  It  was  a  vision  of  empire,  not 
unlike  the  Panama  Canal  project  of  the  same  period,  and 
one  that  bade  fair  apparently  to  be  as  useful  to  humanity. 
It  had  aroused  the  interest  and  enthusiasm  of  Cooke. 

764 


THE    FINANCIER 

Because  of  the  fact  that  the  government  had  made  a 
grant  of  vast  areas  of  land  on  either  side  of  the  proposed 
track  to  the  corporation  that  should  seriously  undertake 
it  and  complete  it  within  a  reasonable  number  of  years, 
and  because  of  the  opportunity  it  gave  him  of  remaining  a 
distinguished  public  figure,  he  had  eventually  shouldered 
the  project.  It  was  open  to  many  objections  and  criti 
cisms  ;  but  the  genius  which  had  been  sufficient  to  finance 
the  Civil  War  was  considered  sufficient  to  finance  the 
Northern  Pacific  Railroad.  Cooke  undertook  it  with  the 
idea  of  being  able  to  put  the  merits  of  the  proposition 
before  the  people  direct — not  through  the  agency  of  any 
great  financial  corporation — and  of  selling  to  the  butcher, 
the  baker,  and  the  candlestick-maker  the  stock  or  shares 
that  he  wished  to  dispose  of. 

It  was  a  brilliant  chance.  His  genius  had  worked  out 
the  sale  of  great  government  loans  during  the  Civil  War 
to  the  people  direct  in  this  fashion.  Why  not  Northern 
Pacific  certificates?  For  several  years  he  conducted  a 
magnificent  campaign,  surveying  the  territory  in  ques 
tion,  organizing  great  railway-construction  corps,  building 
hundreds  of  miles  of  track  under  most  trying  conditions, 
and  selling  great  blocks  of  his  stock,  on  which  interest 
of  a  certain  percentage  was  guaranteed.  If  it  had  not 
been  that  he  knew  little  of  railroad-building,  personally, 
and  that  the  project  was  so  vast  that  it  could  not  well  be 
encompassed  by  one  man,  even  so  great  a  man,  it  might 
have  proved  successful,  as  under  subsequent  manage 
ment  it  did.  However,  hard  times,  the  war  between 
France  and  Germany,  which  tied  up  European  capital  for 
the  time  being  and  made  it  indifferent  to  American  proj 
ects,  envy,  calumny,  a  certain  percentage  of  misman 
agement,  all  conspired  to  wreck  it.  On  September  18, 
1873,  at  twelve-fifteen  noon,  Jay  Cooke  &  Co.  failed  for 
approximately  eight  million  dollars  and  the  Northern 
Pacific  for  all  that  had  been  invested  in  it — some  fifty 
million  dollars  more. 

76$ 


THE    FINANCIER 

One  can  imagine  what  the  result  was — the  most  im 
portant  financier  and  the  most  distinguished  railway 
enterprise  collapsing  at  one  and  the  same  time.  "A 
financial  thunderclap  in  a  clear  sky,"  said  the  Philadel 
phia  Press.  "No  one  could  have  been  more  surprised," 
said  the  Philadelphia  Inquirer,  "if  snow  had  fallen  amid 
the  sunshine  of  a  summer  noon."  The  public,  which  by 
Cooke's  previous  tremendous  success  had  been  lulled 
into  believing  him  invincible,  could  not  understand  it.  It 
was  beyond  belief .  Jay  Cooke  fail?  Impossible,  or  any 
thing  connected  with  him.  Nevertheless,  he  had  failed; 
and  the  New  York  Stock  Exchange,  after  witnessing  a 
number  of  crashes  immediately  afterward,  closed  for 
eight  days.  The  Lake  Shore  Railroad  failed  to  pay  a  call- 
loan  of  one  million  seven  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
dollars;  and  the  Union  Trust  Company,  allied  to  the 
Vanderbilt  interests,  closed  its  doors  after  withstanding 
a  prolonged  run.  The  National  Trust  Company  of  New 
York  had  eight  hundred  thousand  dollars  of  government 
securities  in  its  vaults,  but  not  a  dollar  could  be  borrowed 
upon  them;  and  it  suspended.  Suspicion  was  universal, 
rumor  affected  every  one. 

In  Philadelphia,  when  the  news  reached  the  stock  ex 
change,  it  came  first  in  the  form  of  a  brief  despatch  ad 
dressed  to  the  stock  board  from  the  New  York  Stock 
Exchange — "Rumor  on  street  of  failure  of  Jay  Cooke  & 
Co.  Answer."  It  was  not  believed,  and  so  not  replied  to. 
Nothing  was  thought  of  it.  The  world  of  brokers,  of 
whom  Frank  A.  Cowperwood  was  one,  paid  scarcely  any 
attention  to  it. 

Cowperwood,  however,  who  had  followed  the  fortunes  of 
Jay  Cooke  &  Co.  with  considerable  suspicion  of  its  presi 
dent's  brilliant  theory  of  vending  his  wares  direct  to  the 
people — clergymen,  grocers,  etc. — was  perhaps  the  only 
one  who  had  suspicions.  He  had  once  written  a  brilliant 
criticism  to  some  inquirer,  in  which  he  had  said  that  no 
enterprise  of  such  magnitude  as  the  Northern  Pacific  had 

766 


THE    FINANCIER 

ever  before  been  entirely  dependent  upon  one  house,  or 
rather  upon  one  man,  and  that  he  did  not  like  it.  "I  am 
not  sure  that  the  lands  through  which  the  road  runs  are  so 
unparalleled  in  climate,  soil,  timber,  minerals,  etc.,  as  Mr. 
Cooke  and  his  friends  would  have  us  believe.  Neither 
do  I  think  that  the  road  can  at  present,  or  for  many  years 
to  come,  earn  the  interest  which  its  great  issues  of  stock 
call  for.  There  is  great  danger  and  risk  there." 

So  when  the  notice  was  posted,  he  looked  at  it,  wonder 
ing  what  the  effect  would  be  if  by  any  chance  Jay  Cooke 
&  Co.  should  fail. 

He  was  not  long  in  wonder.  A  second  despatch  posted 
on  'change  read:  "New  York,  September  i8th.  Jay 
Cooke  &  Co.  have  suspended." 

Cowperwood  could  not  believe  it.  He  was  beside  him 
self  with  the  thought  of  a  great  opportunity.  In  company 
with  every  other  broker,  he  hurried  into  Third  Street  and 
up  to  Number  114,  where  the  famous  old  banking  house 
was  located,  in  order  to  be  sure.  Despite  his  natural 
dignity  and  reserve,  he  did  not  hesitate  actually  to  run. 
If  this  were  true,  a  great  hour  had  struck.  There  would 
be  wide-spread  panic  and  disaster.  There  would  be  a 
terrific  slump  in  prices  of  all  stocks.  He  must  be  in  the 
thick  of  it.  Wingate  must  be  on  hand,  and  his  two 
brothers.  He  must  tell  them  how  to  sell  and  when  and 
what  to  buy.  Now  was  his  great  hour. 


CHAPTER  LXXIV 

THE  banking  house  of  Jay  Cooke  &  Co.,  in  spite  of  its 
tremendous  significance  as  a  banking  and  promot 
ing  concern,  was  a  most  unpretentious  affair,  four  stories 
and  a  half  in  height,  of  gray  stone  and  red  brick,  sixty  by 
one  hundred  in  size,  and  most  unsatisfactory  as  to  its 
floor  height  and  general  air-space.  It  had  never  been 
deemed  a  handsome  or  comfortable  banking  house.  Cow- 
perwood  had  been  there  often.  Wharf -rats  as  long  as  the 
forearm  of  a  man  crept  up  the  culverted  channels  of  Dock 
Street  to  run  through  the  apartments  at  will.  Scores  of 
clerks  worked  under  gas-jets,  where  light  and  air  were 
not  any  too  abundant,  keeping  track  of  the  firm's  vast 
accounts.  It  was  next  door  to  the  Girard  National 
Bank,  where  Cowperwood's  friend  Davison  still  flour 
ished,  and  where  the  principal  financial  business  of  the 
street  converged.  As  Cowperwood  ran  he  met  his 
brother  Edward,  who  was  coming  to  the  stock  exchange 
with  some  word  for  him  from  Wingate. 

"Run  and  get  Wingate  and  Joe,"  he  said.  "There's 
something  big  on  this  afternoon.  Jay  Cooke  has  failed." 

Edward  waited  for  no  other  word,  but  hurried  off  to 
get  his  brother  and  Wingate  as  directed. 

Cowperwood  reached  Cooke  &  Co.  among  the  earliest. 
To  his  utter  astonishment,  the  solid  brown-oak  doors, 
with  which  he  was  familiar,  were  shut  at  twelve-fifteen 
of  this  bright  noonday,  and  a  notice  posted  on  them, 
which  he  quickly  read,  ran: 

September  18,  1873. 

To  THE  PUBLIC, — We  regret  to  be  obliged  to  announce  that, 
owing  to  unexpected  demands  on  us,  our  firm  has  been  obliged  to 

768 


THE    F1NANCI  ER 

suspend  payment.  In  a  few  days  we  will  be  able  to  present  a  state 
ment  to  our  creditors,  until  which  time  we  must  ask  for  their  patient 
consideration.  We  believe  our  assets  to  be  largely  in  excess  of  our 

liabilities. 

JAY  COOKE  &  Co. 

A  magnificent  gleam  of  triumph  sprang  into  Cowper- 
wood's  eye.  In  company  with  many  others  he  turned 
and  ran  back  toward  the  exchange,  wfyile  a  reporter,  who 
had  come  for  information,  knocked  at  the  massive  doors 
of  the  banking  house,  and  was  told  by  a  porter,  who  peered 
out  of  a  diamond-shaped  aperture,  that  Jay  Cooke  had 
gone  home  for  the  day  and  was  not  to  be  seen. 

"Now,"  thought  Cowperwood,  to  whom  this  panic 
spelled  opportunity,  not  ruin,  "I'll  get  my  innings.  I'll 
go  short  of  this — of  everything." 

Before,  when  the  panic  following  the  Chicago  fire  had 
occurred,  he  had  been  long — had  been  compelled  to  stay 
long  of  many  things  in  order  to  protect  himself.  To-day  he 
had  nothing  to  speak  of — perhaps  a  paltry  seventy-five 
thousand  dollars  which  he  had  managed  to  scrape  together. 
Thank  God!  he  had  only  the  reputation  of  Wingate's 
old  house  to  lose,  if  he  lost,  which  was  nothing.  With  it 
as  a  trading  agency  behind  him — with  it  as  an  excuse  for 
his  presence,  his  right  to  buy  and  sell — he  had  everything 
to  gain.  Where  many  men  were  thinking  of  ruin,  he  was 
thinking  of  success.  He  would  have  Wingate  and  his  two 
brothers  under  him  to  execute  his  orders  exactly.  He 
could  pick  up  a  fourth  and  a  fifth  man  if  necessary.  He 
would  give  them  orders  to  sell — everything — ten,  fifteen, 
twenty,  thirty  points  off,  if  necessary,  in  order  to  trap  the 
unwary,  depress  the  market,  frighten  the  fearsome  who 
would  think  he  was  too  daring ;  and  then  he  would  buy, 
buy,  buy,  below  these  figures  as  much  as  possible,  in  order 
to  cover  his  sales  and  reap  a  profit.  His  instinct  told  him 
how  wide-spread  and  enduring  this  panic  would  be.  The 
Northern  Pacific  was  a  hundred-million-dollar  venture.  It 
involved  the  savings  of  hundreds  of  thousands  of  people 

769 


THE    FINANCIER 

— small  bankers,  tradesmen,  preachers,  lawyers,  doctors, 
widows,  institutions  all  over  the  land,  and  all  resting  on 
the  faith  and  security  of  Jay  Cooke.  Once,  not  unlike 
the  Chicago  fire  map,  Cowperwood  had  seen  a  grand  pros 
pectus  and  map  of  the  location  of  the  Northern  Pacific 
land-grant  which  Cooke  had  controlled,  showing  a  vast 
stretch  or  belt  of  territory  extending  from  Duluth — "The 
Zenith  City  of  the  Unsalted  Seas,"  as  Proctor  Knott, 
speaking  in  the  House  of  Representatives,  had  sarcasti 
cally  called  it — through  the  Rockies  and  the  headwaters 
of  the  Missouri  to  the  Pacific  Ocean.  He  had  seen  how 
Cooke  had  ostensibly  managed  to  get  control  of  this 
government  grant,  containing  millions  upon  millions  of 
acres  and  extending  fourteen  hundred  miles  in  length; 
but  it  was  only  a  vision  of  empire.  There  might  be  silver 
and  gold  and  copper  mines  there,  if  you  would.  The 
land  was  usable — would  some  day  be  usable.  But  what  of 
it  now?  It  would  do  to  fire  the  imaginations  of  fools  with 
— nothing  more.  It  was  inaccessible,  and  would  remain 
so  for  years  to  come.  No  doubt  thousands  had  subscribed 
to  build  this  road;  but,  too,  thousands  would  now  fail  if  it 
had  failed.  Now  the  crash  had  come.  The  grief  and  the 
rage  of  the  public  would  be  intense.  For  days  and  days 
and  weeks  and  months  normal  confidence  and  courage 
would  be  gone.  This  was  Cowperwood's  hour.  This  was 
his  great  moment.  Like  a  wolf  prowling  under  glitter 
ing,  bitter  stars  in  the  night,  he  was  looking  down  into 
the  humble  folds  of  simple  men  and  seeing  what  their 
ignorance  and  their  unsophistication  would  cost  them. 
He  hurried  back  to  the  exchange,  the  very  same  room  in 
which  only  two  years  before  he  had  fought  his  losing 
fight,  and,  finding  that  his  partner  and  his  brothers  had 
not  yet  come,  began  to  sell  everything  in  sight.  Pande 
monium  had  broken  loose.  Boys  and  men  were  fairly 
tearing  in  from  all  sections  with  orders  from  panic-struck 
brokers  to  sell,  sell,  sell,  and  later  with  orders  to  buy; 
the  various  trading-posts  were  reeling,  swirling  masses  of 

770 


THE    FINANCIER 

brokers  and  their  agents.  Outside  in  the  street,  in  front 
of  Jay  Cooke  &  Co.,  Clark  &  Co.,  the  Girard  National 
Bank,  and  other  institutions,  immense  crowds  were  be 
ginning  to  form.  They  were  hurrying  here  to  learn  the 
trouble,  to  withdraw  their  deposits,  to  protect  their  in 
terests  generally.  A  policeman  arrested  a  boy  for  calling 
out  the  failure  of  Jay  Cooke  &  Co.,  but  nevertheless  the 
news  of  the  great  disaster  was  spreading  like  wild-fire. 

Among  these  panic-struck  men  Cowperwood  was  per 
fectly  calm,  deadly  cold,  the  same  Cowperwood  who  had 
pegged  solemnly  at  his  ten  chairs  each  day  in  prison, 
who  had  baited  his  traps  for  rats,  and  worked  in  the 
little  garden  allotted  him  in  utter  silence  and  loneliness. 
Now  he  was  vigorous  and  energetic.  He  had  been  just 
sufficiently  long  on  'change  once  more  to  have  made  his 
personality  impressive  and  distinguished.  He  forced  his 
way  into  the  center  of  swirling  crowds  of  men  already 
shouting  themselves  hoarse,  offering  whatever  was  being 
offered  in  quantities  which  were  astonishing,  and  at 
prices  which  allured  the  few  who  were  anxious  to  make 
money  out  of  the  tumbling  prices  to  buy.  New  York 
Central  had  been  standing  at  104-!  when  the  failure 
was  announced;  Rhode  Island  at  io8-J;  Western  Union 
at  92-!;  Wabash  at  yoi;  Panama  at  117!;  Central 
Pacific  at  99!;  St.  Paul  at  51;  Hannibal  &  St.  Joseph 
at  48;  Northwestern  at  63;  Union  Pacific  at  26f ;  Ohio 
and  Mississippi  at  38!.  Cowperwood's  house  had 
scarcely  any  of  the  stocks  on  hand.  They  were  not 
carrying  them  for  any  customers,  and  yet  he  sold,  sold, 
sold,  to  whoever  would  take,  at  prices  which  he  felt 
sure  would  inspire  them. 

"Five  thousand  of  New  York  Central  at  ninety-nine, 
ninety-eight,  ninety-seven,  ninety-six,  ninety-five,  ninety- 
four,  ninety-three,  ninety-two,  ninety-one,  ninety,  eighty- 
nine,"  you  might  have  heard  him  call;  and  when  his  sales 
were  not  sufficiently  brisk  he  would  turn  to  something  else 
— Rock  Island,  Panama,  Central  Pacific,  Western  Union, 

771 


THE    FINANCIER 

Northwestern,  Union  Pacific.  He  saw  his  brother  and 
Wingate  hurrying  in,  and  stopped  in  his  work  long  enough 
to  instruct  them.  "Sell  everything  you  can,"  he  cau 
tioned  them  quietly,  "at  fifteen  points  off  if  you  have  to 
— no  lower  than  that — and  buy  all  you  can  below  it.  Ed, 
you  see  if  you  cannot  buy  up  some  local  street-railways 
at  fifteen  off.  Joe,  you  stay  near  me  and  buy  when  I  tell 
you." 

All  the  while  the  secretary  of  the  board,  the  thin, 
cadaverous  Mr.  Ammerman,  was  appearing  on  his  little 
platform. 

"E.  W.  Clark  &  Company,"  he  announced,  at  one- 
thirty,  "have  just  closed  their  doors." 

"Tighe  &  Company,"  he  called,  at  one-forty-five,  "an 
nounce  that  they  are  compelled  to  suspend." 

"The  First  National  Bank  of  Philadelphia,"  he  called,  at 
two  o'clock,  "begs  to  state  that  it  cannot  at  present  meet 
its  obligations." 

After  each  announcement,  always,  as  in  the  past,  when 
the  gong  had  compelled  silence,  the  crowd  broke  into  an 
ominous  "Aw,  aw,  aw." 

"Tighe  &  Company,"  thought  Cowperwood,  for  a  single 
second,  when  he  heard  it.  "There's  an  end  of  him." 
And  then  he  returned  to  his  task. 

When  the  time  for  closing  came,  his  coat  torn,  his 
collar  twisted  loose,  his  necktie  ripped,  his  hat  lost,  he 
emerged  sane,  quiet,  steady -mannered. 

"Well,  Ed,"  he  inquired,  meeting  his  brother,  "how'd 
you  make  out?" 

The  latter  was  equally  torn,  scratched,  exhausted. 

"I  never  saw  such  a  place  as  this,"  he  replied,  tugging 
at  his  sleeves.  "They  almost  tore  my  clothes  off." 

"Buy  any  local  street-railways?" 

"About  four  thousand  shares." 

"We'd  better  go  down  to  Green's,"  Frank  observed, 
speaking  of  the  lobby  of  the  principal  hotel.  "We're  not 
through  yet.  There'll  be  more  trading  there." 

772 


THE    FINANCIER 

He  led  the  way  to  find  Wingate  and  his  brother  Joe, 
and  together  they  were  off,  figuring  up  some  of  the  larger 
phases  of  their  purchases  and  sales  as  they  went. 

The  excitement  did  not  end  with  the  coming  of  the 
night.  The  crowd  lingered  in  front  of  Jay  Cooke  & 
Co.'s  on  Third  Street  and  in  front  of  other  institutions, 
waiting  apparently  for  some  development  which  would 
be  favorable  to  them.  For  the  initiated  the  center  of 
debate  and  agitation  was  Green's  Hotel,  where  on  the 
evening  of  the  eighteenth  the  lobby  and  corridors  were 
crowded  with  bankers,  brokers,  and  speculators.  The 
stock  exchange  had  practically  adjourned  to  that  hotel 
en  masse.  What  of  the  morrow  ?  Who  would  be  the  next 
to  fail?  From  whence  would  money  be  forthcoming? 
These  were  the  topics  from  each  mind  and  upon  each 
tongue.  From  New  York  was  coming  momentarily 'more 
news  of  disaster.  Over  there  banks  and  trust  companies 
were  falling  like  trees  in  a  hurricane.  Cowperwood  in  his 
perambulations,  seeing  what  he  could  see  and  hearing 
what  he  could  hear,  reaching  understandings  which  were 
against  the  rules  of  the  exchange,  but  which  were  never 
theless  in  accord  with  what  every  other  person  was  doing, 
saw  men  known  to  him  as  agents  of  Mollenhauer  and 
Simpson  about,  and  congratulated  himself  that  he  would 
have  something  to  collect  from  them  before  the  week  was 
over.  He  might  not  own  a  street-railway,  but  he  would 
have  the  means  to.  He  learned  from  hearsay,  and  in 
formation  which  had  been  received  from  New  York  and 
elsewhere,  that  things  were  as  bad  as  they  could  be,  and 
that  there  was  no  hope  for  those  who  expected  a  speedy 
return  of  normal  conditions.  No  thought  of  retiring  for 
the  night  entered  until  the  last  man  was  gone.  It  was 
then  practically  morning. 

The  next  day  was  Friday,  and  suggested  many  ominous 
things.  Would  it  be  another  Black  Friday?  Cowperwood 
was  at  his  office  before  the  street  was  fairly  awake. 
He  figured  out  his  programme  for  the  day  to  a  nicety, 


THE    FINANCIER 

feeling  strangely  different  from  the  way  he  had  felt  two 
years  before  when  the  conditions  were  not  dissimilar. 
Yesterday,  in  spite  of  the  sudden  onslaught,  he  had  made 
one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars,  and  he  expected 
to  make  as  much,  if  not  more,  to-day.  There  was  no 
telling  what  he  could  make,  he  thought,  if  he  could  only 
keep  his  small  organization  in  perfect  trim  and  get  his 
assistants  to  follow  his  orders  exactly.  Ruin  for  others 
began  early  with  the  suspension  of  Fisk  &  Hatch,  Jay 
Cooke's  faithful  lieutenants  during  the  Civil  War.  They 
had  calls  upon  them  for  one  million  five  hundred  thousand 
dollars  in  the  first  fifteen  minutes  after  opening  the  doors, 
and  at  once  closed  them  again,  the  failure  being  ascribed 
to  Collis  P.  Huntington's  Central  Pacific  Railroad  and 
the  Chesapeake  &  Ohio.  There  was  a  long-continued 
run  on  the  Fidelity  Trust  Company.  News  of  these 
facts,  and  of  failures  in  New  York  posted  on  'change, 
strengthened  the  cause  Cowperwood  was  so  much  inter 
ested  in ;  for  he  was  selling  as  high  as  he  could  and  buying 
as  low  as  he  could  on  a  constantly  sinking  scale.  By 
twelve  o'clock  he  figured  with  his  assistants  that  he  had 
cleared  one  hundred  thousand  dollars;  and  by  three 
o'clock  he  had  two  hundred  thousand  dollars  more. 
That  afternoon  between  three  and  seven  he  spent  adjust 
ing  his  trades,  and  between  seven  and  one  in  the  morning, 
without  anything  to  eat,  in  gathering  as  much  additional 
information  as  he  could  and  laying  his  plans  for  the 
future.  Saturday  morning  came,  and  he  repeated  his 
performance  of  the  day  before,  following  it  up  with 
adjustments  on  Sunday  and  heavy  trading  on  Monday. 
By  Monday  afternoon  at  three  o'clock  he  figured  that, 
all  losses  and  uncertainties  to  one  side,  he  was  once 
more  a  millionaire,  and  that  now  his  future  lay  clear  and 
straight  before  him. 

As  he  sat  at  his  desk  late  that  afternoon  in  his  office 
looking  out  into  Third  Street,  where  a  hurrying  of 
brokers,  messengers,  and  anxious  depositors  still  maiii- 

774 


THE    FINANCIER 

tained,  he  had  the  feeling  that  so  far  as  Philadelphia  and 
the  life  here  was  concerned,  his  day  and  its  day  with  him 
was  over.  He  did  not  care  anything  about  the  brokerage 
business  any  more.  Failures  such  as  this,  and  disasters 
such  as  the  Chicago  fire,  that  had  overtaken  him  two  years 
before,  had  cured  him  of  all  love  of  the  stock  exchange 
and  all  feeling  for  Philadelphia.  He  had  been  very  un 
happy  here  in  spite  of  all  his  previous  happiness;  and  his 
experience  as  a  convict  had  made  him,  he  could  see  quite 
plainly,  unacceptable  to  the  element  he  had  once  hoped 
to  associate  with.  There  was  nothing  else  to  do,  now 
that  he  had  re-established  himself  as  a  Philadelphia 
business  man  and  been  pardoned  for  an  offense  which 
he  hoped  to  make  people  believe  he  had  never  committed, 
but  to  leave  Philadelphia  to  seek  a  new  world. 

"If  I  get  out  of  this  safely,"  he  said  to  himself,  "this 
is  the  end.  I  am  going  West,  and  going  into  some  other 
line  of  business."  He  thought  of  street-railways,  land 
speculation,  some  great  manufacturing  project  of  some 
kind,  even  mining,  on  a  legitimate  basis.  Anything,  not 
to  be  a  broker  any  more. 

"I  have  had  my  lesson,"  he  said  to  himself,  finally 
getting  up  and  preparing  to  leave.  "I  am  as  rich  as  I 
was,  and  only  a  little  older.  They  caught  me  once,  but 
they  will  not  catch  me  again."  He  talked  to  Wingate 
about  following  up  the  campaign  on  the  lines  in  which 
he  had  started,  and  he  himself  intended  to  follow  them  up 
with  great  energy ;  but  all  the  while  his  mind  was  running 
with  this  one  rich  thought:  "I  am  a  millionaire.  I  am  a 
free  man.  I  am  only  thirty-six,  and  my  future  is  all 
before  me." 

It  was  with  this  thought  that  he  went  to  visit  Aileen, 
and  to  plan  for  the  future. 

It  was  some  six  months  later  that  a  train,  speeding 
through  the  mountains  of  Pennsylvania  and  over  the 
plains  of  Ohio  and  Indiana,  bore  to  Chicago  and  the 

775 


THE    FINANCIER 

West  the  young  financial  aspirant  who,  in  spite  of  youth 
and  wealth  and  a  notable  vigor  of  body,  was  a  solemn, 
conservative  speculator  as  to  what  his  future  might  be. 
The  West  held  much.  He  had  studied  the  receipts  of 
the  New  York  Clearing  House  recently  and  the  disposi 
tion  of  bank-balances  and  the  shipment  of  gold,  and 
seen  that  vast  quantities  of  the  latter  metal  were  going 
to  Chicago.  He  understood  finance  accurately.  The 
meaning  of  gold  shipments  was  clear.  Where  money 
was  going  trade  was — a  thriving,  developing  life.  He 
wished  to  see  clearly  for  himself  what  this  world  had 
to  offer.  Two  years  later,  after  there  had  been  the 
meteoric  appearance  of  a  young  speculator  in  Duluth, 
and  after  Chicago  had  seen  the  tentative  opening  of 
a  grain  and  commission  company  labeled  Frank  A. 
Cowperwood  &  Co.,  which  ostensibly  dealt  in  the  great 
wheat  crops  of  the  West,  a  quiet  divorce  was  granted 
Mrs.  Frank  A.  Cowperwood  in  Philadelphia,  because 
apparently  she  wished  it.  Time  had  not  seemingly  dealt 
badly  with  her.  Her  financial  affairs,  once  so  bad,  were 
now  apparently  all  straightened  out,  and  she  occupied 
in  West  Philadelphia,  near  one  of  her  sisters,  a  new  and 
interesting  home  which  was  fitted  with  all  the  comforts 
of  an  excellent  middle-class  residence.  Mrs.  Frank  A. 
Cowperwood  was  now  quite  religious  once  more.  The 
two  children,  Frank  and  Lillian,  were  in  private  schools, 
returning  evenings  to  their  mother.  "Wash"  Sims  was 
once  more  the  general  negro  factotum.  Frequent  visitors 
on  Sundays  were  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Henry  Worthington 
Cowperwood,  no  longer  distressed  financially,  but  sub 
dued  and  wearied,  the  wind  completely  gone  from  their 
once  much-favored  sails.  Here,  too,  came  Anna  Adelaide 
Cowperwood  on  occasion,  a  clerk  in  the  city  water  office, 
who  speculated  much  as  to  the  strange  vicissitudes  of 
life.  She  had  great  interest  in  her  brother,  who  seemed 
destined  by  fate  to  play  a  conspicuous  part  in  the  world; 
but  she  could  not  understand  him.  Seeing  that  all  those 

776 


THE    FINANCIER 

who  were  near  to  him  in  any  way  seemed  to  rise  or  fall 
with  his  prosperity,  she  did  not  understand  how  justice 
and  morals  were  arranged  in  this  world.  There  seemed 
to  be  certain*  general  principles — or  people  assumed  there 
were — but  apparently  there  were  exceptions.  Assuredly 
her  brother  abided  by  no  known  rule,  and  yet  he  seemed 
to  be  doing  fairly  well  once  more.  What  did  this  mean? 
Mrs.  Cowperwood,  his  former  wife,  condemned  his  actions, 
and  yet  accepted  of  his  prosperity  as  her  due.  What  were 
the  ethics  of  that? 

In  another  part  of  the  city  there  had  lived  for  some 
time,  with  her  mother,  Aileen  Butler,  who  had  long  con 
tinued  a  relationship  which  to  her  seemed  final  and  irre 
trievable.  She  had  speculated  much  as  to  her  past  con 
duct  and  her  future,  and  had  rejoiced  at  Frank's  sudden 
return  to  wealth  and  power.  His  every  action  was  known 
to  her,  his  present  whereabouts  and  prospects.  Not  long 
after  his  wife's  divorce,  and  after  many  trips  to  and  from 
this  new  world  in  which  he  was  now  living,  these  two  left 
Philadelphia  one  afternoon  in  the  winter  for  good.  Aileen 
explained  to  her  mother,  who  was  willing  to  go  and  live 
with  Norah,  that  she  had  fallen  in  love  with  the  former 
banker  and  wished  to  marry  him.  The  old  lady,  gathering 
only  a  garbled  version  of  it  at  first,  consented.  There 
was  then  their  final  departure,  which  ended  forever  for 
Aileen  this  long-continued  relationship  with  this  older 
world.  Chicago  was  before  her — a  much  more  distin 
guished  career,  Frank  told  her,  than  ever  they  would 
have  had  in  Philadelphia. 

"Isn't  it  nice  to  be  finally  going?"  she  commented. 

"It  is  advantageous,  anyhow,"  he  said. 


CONCERNING  MYCTEROPERCA  BONACI 

There  is  a  certain  fish  whose  scientific  name  is  Myctero- 
perca  Bonaci,  and  whose  common  name  is  Black  Grouper, 

777 


THE    FINANCIER 

which  is  of  considerable  value  as  an  afterthought  in  this 
connection,  and  which  deserves  much  to  be  better  known. 
It  is  a  healthy  creature,  growing  quite  regularly  to  a 
weight  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  pounds,  and  living  a 
comfortable,  lengthy  existence  because  of  its  very  remark 
able  ability  to  adapt  itself  to  conditions.  That  very  sub 
tle  thing  which  we  call  the  creative  power,  and  which  we 
endue  with  the  spirit  of  the  beatitudes,  is  supposed  to 
build  this  mortal  life  in  such  fashion  that  only  honesty 
and  virtue  shall  prevail.  Witness,  then,  the  significant 
manner  in  which  it  has  fashioned  the  black  grouper. 
One  might  go  far  afield  and  gather  less  forceful  indict 
ments —  the  horrific  spider  spinning  his  trap  for  the 
unthinking  fly;  the  lovely  Drosera  (Sundew)  using  its 
crimson  calyx  for  a  smothering-pit  in  which  to  seal  and 
devour  the  victim  of  its  beauty;  the  rainbow-colored  jelly 
fish  that  spreads  its  prismed  tentacles  like  streamers  of 
great  beauty,  only  to  sting  and  torture  all  that  falls  within 
their  radiant  folds.  Man  himself  is  busy  digging  the  pit 
and  fashioning  the  snare,  but  he  will  not  believe  it.  His 
feet  are  in  the  trap  of  circumstance;  his  eyes  are  on  an 
illusion. 

Mycteroperca  moving  in  its  dark  world  of  green  waters 
is  as  fine  an  illustration  of  the  constructive  genius  of 
nature,  which  is  not  beatific,  as  any  which  the  mind  of 
man  may  discover.  Its  great  superiority  lies  in  an  al 
most  unbelievable  power  of  simulation,  which  relates 
solely  to  the  pigmentation  of  its  skin.  In  electrical 
mechanics  we  pride  ourselves  on  our  ability  to  make 
over  one  brilliant  scene  into  another  in  the  twinkling  of 
an  eye,  and  flash  before  the  gaze  of  an  onlooker  picture 
after  picture,  which  appear  and  disappear  as  we  look. 
The  directive  control  of  Mycteroperca  over  its  appearance 
is  much  more  significant.  You  cannot  look  at  it  long 
without  feeling  that  you  are  witnessing  something  spec 
tral  and  unnatural,  so  brilliant  is  its  power  to  deceive. 
From  being  black  it  can  become  instantly  white;  from  be- 

778 


THE    FINANCIER 

ing  an  earth-colored  brown  it  can  fade  into  a  delicious 
water-colored  green.  Its  markings  change  as  the  clouds 
of  the  sky.  One  marvels  at  the  variety  and  subtlety  of 
its  power. 

Lying  at  the  bottom  of  a  bay,  it  can  simulate  the  mud 
by  which  it  is  surrounded.  Hidden  in  the  folds  of  glorious 
leaves,  it  is  of  the  same  markings.  Lurking  in  a  flaw  of 
light,  it  is  like  the  light  itself  shining  dimly  in  water.  Its 
power  to  elude  or  strike  unseen  is  of  the  greatest. 

What  would  you  say  was  the  intention  of  the  over 
ruling,  intelligent,  constructive  force  which  gives  to 
Mycteroperca  this  ability?  To  fit  it  to  be  truthful?  To 
permit  it  to  present  an  unvarying  appearance  which  all 
honest  life-seeking  fish  may  know?  Or  would  you  say 
that  subtlety,  chicanery,  trickery,  were  here  at  work? 
An  implement  of  illusion  one  might  readily  suspect  it  to 
be,  a  living  lie,  a  creature  whose  business  it  is  to  appear 
what  it  is  not,  to  simulate  that  with  which  it  has  nothing 
in  common,  to  get  its  living  by  great  subtlety,  the  power 
of  its  enemies  to  forfend  against  which  is  little.  The 
indictment  is  fair. 

Would  you  say  in  the  face  of  this  that  a  beatific,  benefi 
cent  creative  overruling  power  never  wills  that  which  is 
either  tricky  or  deceptive  ?  Or  would  you  say  that  this 
material  seeming  in  which  we  dwell  is  itself  an  illusion? 
If  not,  whence  then  the  Ten  Commandments  and  the 
illusion  of  justice?  Why  were  the  beatitudes  dreamed 
and  how  do  they  avail? 


THE   MAGIC   CRYSTAL 

If  you  had  been  a  mystic  or  a  soothsayer  or  a  member 
of  that  mysterious  world  which  divines  by  incantations, 
dreams,  the  mystic  bowl,  or  the  crystal  sphere,  you  might 
have  looked  into  their  mysterious  depths  at  this  time  and 
foreseen  a  world  of  happenings  which  concerned  these  two, 

779 


THE    FINANCIER 

who  were  now  apparently  so  fortunately  placed.  In  the 
fumes  of  the  witches'  pot,  or  the  depths  of  the  radiant 
crystal,  might  have  been  revealed  cities,  cities,  cities;  a 
world  of  mansions,  carriages,  jewels,  beauty;  a  vast 
metropolis  outraged  by  the  power  of  one  man;  a  great 
State  seething  with  indignation  over  a  force  it  could  not 
control;  vast  halls  of  priceless  pictures;  a  palace  un 
rivaled  for  its  magnificence;  a  whole  world  reading  with 
wonder,  at  times,  of  a  given  name. 

And  sorrow,  sorrow,  sorrow. 

The  three  witches  that  hailed  Macbeth  upon  the 
blasted  heath  might  in  turn  have  called  to  Cowperwood, 
"Hail  to  thee,  Frank  Cowperwood,  master  of  a  great 
railway  system !  Hail  to  thee,  Frank  Cowperwood,  builder 
of  a  priceless  mansion !  Hail  to  thee,  Frank  Cowperwood, 
patron  of  arts  and  possessor  of  endless  riches !  Thou  shalt 
be  famed  hereafter."  But  like  the  Weird  Sisters,  they 
would  have  lied,  for  in  the  glory  was  also  the  ashes  of 
Dead  Sea  fruit — an  understanding  that  could  neither  be 
inflamed  by  desire  nor  satisfied  by  luxury;  a  heart  that  was 
long  since  wearied  by  experience;  a  soul  that  was  as 
bereft  of  illusion  as  a  windless  moon.  And  to  Aileen,  as 
to  Macduff,  they  might  have  spoken  a  more  pathetic 
promise,  one  that  concerned  hope  and  failure.  To  have 
and  not  to  have!  All  the  seeming,  and  yet  the  sorrow 
of  not  having!  Brilliant  society  that  shone  in  a  mirage, 
yet  locked  its  doors;  love  that  eluded  as  a  will-o'-the-wisp 
and  died  in  the  dark.  "Hail  to  thee,  Frank  Cowperwood, 
master  and  no  master,  prince  of  a  world  of  dreams  whose 
reality  was  sorrow!"  So  might  the  witches  have  called, 
the  bowl  have  danced  with  figures,  the  fumes  with  vision, 
and  it  would  have  been  true.  What  wise  man  might  not 
read  from  such  a  beginning,  such  an  end? 


THE    END 


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